\ 





o^^-^-^ 




LIN: 



OR, 



NOTABLE PEOPLE 

AND 

NOTABLE THINGS 

IN THE 

EARLY HISTORY OF LYNN, 

THE THIRD PLANTATION OF MASSACHUSETTS COLONY. 

BY 



A NEW EDITION. 



LYNN : 

PUBLISHED AT THE BOOKSTORE OF 

George C. Herbri{t. 



Vl4~ 



NOTE. 

The preceding editions of this woriv were issued under the title 
" Lin : OR, Jewels ok the Third Plantation." l^ut as some 
critical friends thought that title not sufficiently exj^ressivc of the 
contents, the present has been adopted. 

\. R. .\. 

Lynn, March 4, 1890. 



-1^"'' 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1879, by 

James R. Newhall, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



FREF A-OE. 



The first edition of this work appeared in 1862, and the author had 
abundant reason to be satisfied with the kind manner in which it was 
received. It has now been " out of print " for some years, and the time 
seems to have arrived when a new and enlarged edition would not be 
deemed a literary obtrusion. Tlie original work was embraced in just 
four hundred pages. To this edition a hundred pages have been added 
under the title of "THE ANCHOR TAVERN." And this addition 
is distinguished by a style of type somewhat diiierent from the original 
pages. A few explanatory passages from the preface of the first edition 
may properly be introduced here. 

A leading purpose of this volume is to illustrate, in a somewhat lively 
way the character of the People, and the condition of Things, during a 
most interesting period of our history. Divers remarkable personages 
and occurrences, strangely overlooked by others, receive due attention. 
And such wayside reflections are interspersed as it is hoped may, at least 
here and there, prove good seed sown in good ground. 

The Actors and Scenes are to a degree local. But we have endeavored 
to treat them in such a manner that they will, for that very reason, 
be the more acceptable to the general reader. One is always most 
interested in a narrative when he can point the finger and say — It was 
right there that the thing happened. 

We are aware that the style will appear rather episodical ; and arc also 
aware that it is a dangerous style to venture upon. But the plan seemed 
to demand that it should be adopted. 

Slight circumstances often suggest important schemes. And it is be- 
coming to acknowledge that a casual remark of the Ancient Bookseller of 
Nassau street — whose dusty stall and obliging manners so often staid the 
author's youthful steps, whose judgment of books was so penetrating that 
he discerned their value by their binding, whose modesty was so intense 
that he wrote the first person singular with a little i, and who descended 
from one of the brightest Jewels of the Third Plantation — proved so 

(iii) 



IV 



PREFACE. 



mduential in inducing the present attempt, that it might, perhaps, be 
proper even to dedicate the work to him. 

The author, during several years of his early life, wielded the printer's 
"stick," and has ever, in after years, while pursuing what is called a 
"profession," retained agreeable recollections of the printing office, 
insomuch that he has long kept a font or two of t}'pe, in a cozy back 
room, to which he could resort at a vacant hour for that semi-intellectual 
entertaiiunent which is so agreeable. A good portion of the volume was 
never written ; but with memoranda and sketches lying on the " upper 
case," the author proceeded to compose sentences and types at the same 
time. And could he be assured that the reader would, in the perusal, 
find a few of his leisure hours as pleasantly occupied, he would be more 
than pleased — without, however, overlooking the fact that in this scram- 
bling world pecuniar)- recompense is seldom to be disdained. 




Egg Rock. See Diagram. 



I K D E X . 



Adventures and Discoveries, 58, 66. 
Anchor Tavern, 401 to 495. 
Anderson, Julia, tragic fate of, 109. 
Anointing of Obadiaii Turner, 479, 
Apparition in Old Tunnel, 386. 
Armita.^e, Deborah, herb seller, 239. 
Aiinjla^e, lar>cllord, 40G, 472. 
Arthur and Haroldine, 13 1. 
Assaults. Of David, Indian, on Joel 

Dunn, ^'t'\ Of David on Dr. 

Read, 472. Mysterious, 352. Of 

Edward Randolph on Oliver I'ur- 

chis, 172. 
Autumn foliage, 328. 



B. 



Bachelor, Rev. Mr.,first minister, 64. 

Ballard, Abel, iiis adventures, 103. 

Banquet, Old Tunnel dedication,285. 

Banquet on fiftieth Anniversary, 464. 

Bears, 405, 4G3, 4S3. 

Bees, attempt at raising, 148. 

Bonfires, 462, 467. 

Boudinot, Mr., the Huguenot, 310. 

Bowlegs (Joel Dunn,) 413. 

Burial of a suicide, 278. 

Burial, a premature, 275. 

Burying Ground, the Old, 231 to 282. 



Celebration of Fiftieth Anniversa- 
ry, 462 to 495. 

Celestial phenomena, 67, 79, 88. 

Characteristics of settlers, 41, 392. 

Charming, snake, 430. 

Choir, Old Tunnel, 359, 389. 

Christmas, prosecution for observ- 
ing, 82. 

Cider, 469, 479. 



Cobbet, Rev. Tliomas, 80. 
Coins, fir.st American, 77. 
College student, punishment of, 371. 
Comet, great, 88. 
Commencement of Plantation, 23. 
Conrad, the enthusiast, 485. 
Cora Reddan and her lover, 382. 
Cow, Mr. Kertland's, 220. 
Cues. Dr. Read's, 470, 472. Dr. 

Tyndale's, 337. 
Cure, remarkable, 338. 



D. 



Dancing, 294, 485. 

David Jvunkshamooshaw (Indian,) 

442 ; at celebration, 467 to 480. 
Davis, jolly John, at celebration, 480. 
Dedication of Old Tunnel Meeting 

House, 283. 
Devil, old belief in the, 56, 63, 75, 

103, 196. 
Dexter, Thomas, — biographical 

sketch of, 187 to 216. 
Dinners, public, 285, 464. 
Discoveries and adventures, 58, 66. 
Dress, extravagant, prohibited, 425. 
Ducking of Gooddy Baker, 77. 
Dungeon Rock, 82, 427 to 442. 
Dunn, Joel, a tramp, 413 to 426 ; 

his terrible night in the woods, 

430 ; his strange death, 452. 

E- 

Early settlers, traits of the, 40, 392. 
Earthquake, effect of, at Dungeon 

Rock, 82, 438. 
Eeling expedition, 303. 
Egg Rock, 103 194. 
Enthusiast, Conrad, the, 485. 
Excursions for discovery, 57, 66. 
Explosion of Dr. Tyndale's cue, 337. 



(V) 



VI 



INDEX. 



Familiar spirit, Mrs. Hawkins's, 460. 

Farmer's home, in olden time, 144. 

Fiftieth Anniversary of the first set- 
tlement, celebration of, 462 to 495. 

Fifty years, the first, of the Planta- 
tion, 85, 462. 

First habitation, erection of, 33. 

First minister, 64. 

First settlers, character of, 40, 392. 

Footprints in rocks, 66, 75, 103. 

Freemen, how made, 115. 

Funerals, doings at, 80, 279, 490. 

G. 

Geese, 320, 3S4, 4S3. 

Ghost in Old Tunnel, 387. 

Gipsys, 71. 

Glen, Pirates', 410. 

(]off, the regicide, in Lynn, 177. 

Graves, Daniel, and little girl, 387. 

Guatolf, the apostate Jew, 271. 

II. 

Habitation, first in the Plantation,33. 

Harokline and Arthur, 131. 

Hart, Zachariah, — biographical 
sketch of, 19 to 50. 

Harvard college, punishment in, 371. 

Hawkins, Jane, an antinomian, 45S. 

Hornets, attack of on Mr. Hart, 26. 

Huguenots. 308. 

Humphrey, Nora, her touching sto- 
ry, indiscretion, and sad fate, 362. 

Humphrey, Verna, the strange vi- 
cissitudes of her life, 247 to 270. 

Hunter, ]:)ublic, chosen, 70. 

Hutchinson, Mrs., and her teach- 
ings, 39, 459. 



I. 



Indian characteristics, 68, 95, 468. 
Indian land tenures, 91, 468. 
Indian pets, 463. 
Indian summer, 329. 
Indian, the Old, (tree) 443. 
Indians at celebration of fiftieth an- 
niversary, 463, 464, 481, 485. 
Indians, youthful, 78, 464, 481, 485. 
Introductory remarks, 9, 229, 401. 
Iron Works, 75. 



J- 



Jcnks, Dolly, pleasant story of, 421. 
Jenks, Joseph, and his wife, 425. 
Jew, Guatolf, the apostate, 271. 
Journal of Obadiah Turner, 57 to 90. 



K. 



Kertland, Philip, first shoemaker 
in the Plantation, 217 to 228. 

Kiss, story of a hasty, 422. 

Knopp, Nicholas atravelling doctor, 
455. He doctors the governor, 456. 

Kunkshamooshaw, David, (Indian), 
442. At celebration, 467 to 480. 



Landlords of the Anchor Tavern, 

406 to 409. 
Land tenures, (Indian,) 91, 468. 
Lightning, serious effects of, 105, 

276, 386, 482. 
Love unrequited, story of, 362. 
Lynn, name of, 14, S3. 



M. 



Makepeace, John, and his strange 
sanitary contrivance, 475. 

Marsh, Joel Dunn's haying on, 417. 

Marshall, Caj^tain, landlord of the 
Anchor Tavern, 407. 

Martin, Josiah, landlord of the An- 
chor Tavern, 408. 

Mather, Co«on, at Old Tunnel, 383. 

Mechanics' wages regulated, 60. 

Medical practice in early times, 455. 

Meeting house. Old Tunnel, 89, 283 
to 400. 

Melrose, Elizabeth, her premature 
burial, 275. 

Military parades, 63, 312, 453, 463. 

Mill established, 61. 

Money Diggers, 446. 

Mudget, Deacon, his lesson, 359. 

Music in Old Tunnel, 389. 

Mysterious assault, 352. 

Mysterious stranger, 177. 

N. 

Nahant, 66, 103, 167, 197. 
Name of Lynn, 14, 88. 



INDEX. 



VU 



Newhall, Ephraim, his grave, 278. 

Newhall, Jacob, landlord of the An- 
chor Tavern, 409. 

Newhall, origin of the name, 138. 

Newhall, Thomas —biographical 
sketch of, 117 to 156. 

Newhall, Thomas, first white per- 
son born in the Plantation, 479- 

Norwood, widow, landlady ot the 
Anchor, 40S. „ j r *i « 

Norwood, Zaccheus, landlord of the 
Anchor, 408. 

O. 

Old and new style, 55. 

Old Burying Ground, 231 to 2b3. 

Old Indian, (tree) 443. 

Oldpath, Ezekiel, teacher, 325. 

Old Tunnel Choir, 359, 389- 

■Old Tunnel Meeting House, bg, 

283 to 400. 
Orthography, old style, 54. 9i- 



Pets, Indian, 463. 
Pine Tree coins, 77. 
Pines Point, 445. 
Pirates, 82, 411, 4=7. 45i- 
Pirates' Glen, 410. _ 

Plantation, the Third, territorial sit 

nation and beginning of, 14. 23- 
Procession, fiftieth anniversary, 463. 
Pulpit Rock, 105. 

Pumpkins, David's assault with, 469. 
PuRCHis, Oliver — biographical 

sketch of, I.S7 to 186. 



Review of fifty years progress, 85. 

Rhodes, Aaron, his wonderful cure, 

336- 
Rock, Dungeon, 82, 427 to 442. 

Rock, Egg, 103, 194- 
Rock, Pulpit, 105. 



Salt marsh, haying on, 417. 

Salt works, 63. , , iv/r 

Sanitary apparatus invented by Mr. 

Makepeace, 475. 
Saugus River, 195, 303. 
Scalding of Dr. Read by David, 472. 
Scalping of Mr. Laighton, 204. 
Sea-serpent, 68, 195. 
Serpents. See Snakes. 
Sermons of olden time, 373. 

Settlement, beginning of the, 23. 

Settlers, traits of the, 41, 392. 

Shoe trade, 224. 

Singers in the Old Tunnel, 359 389- 

Skeletons found, 65. 

Skunks, 59, 461- 

Sleepers in meeting, 70, 21^5. 

Sleigh ride in summer, 40b. 

Snakes, 31, 58, 68, 195. 367. 43°. 464- 

Spelling in early times, 54, 9i- 

Spirit, familiar, Mrs. Hawkins 5,460. 

Stocks, 70. 

Storms, 83, 431. 482. 

Stormy and cold winters, 60, 83. 

Stranger, mysterious, 177. 

Style, old and new. 55. 

Suicide, grave cf a, 278. 
Summer, Indian, 329. 
Summer sleigh ride, 408. 



Quakers, laws against, 83. 
R. 

Ramsdell, Dame, and her interest- 
ing son, 369. _ 

Randolph, Edward, his mong do- 
ings and disappointments, 1 59, l65. 

Rattlesnake,! Indian), his cruelty, bi. 

Read, Dr. Philip, 469 to 472- 

Reception tomb, scene at, 275. 

Reddan, Cora, and her lover, 382. 

Reddan, Francis, his eventful life and 
touching death, 3 78. 



Talisman, David's, 477, 47S. 
Tavern, Anchor, 401 to 495. 
Tavern scores, old time, 406. 
Teachers of youth, 318, 325, 330, 483- 
Third Plantation, its territorial loca- 
tion and commencement, 14, 23. 
Tomb, reception, scene at the, 275. 
Tornado, 482. 

Trainings, military, 63,312,453, 403- 
Tramps, old time, 414. 
Treason of Joseph Jcnks, 421. 
Turnbody, Master, 318. 
Turner Obadiah — biographical 
I sketch and journal, 51 to 116. 



VIU 



INDEX. 



Turner, Oradiah, At celebration 
of the fiftieth anniversary, 477. 

At Old Tunnel dedication din- 
ner, 291. 

His Rrave, 274. 

Tyndale, Dr. Jotham, 333. 

V. 

Vane, Governor, 42 ; his visit, 45. 
Veal, the pirate, 82, 427 to 441. 
Verna Humphrey, touching story 
of, 247. 



W. 

Wages of mechanics regulated by 
the Court, 60. 

Whiting, Rev. Samuel, 86. 

At celebration of fiftieth anni- 
versary, 466. 

Biographical sketch of, 496. 

His grave, 270. 

Wild Geese, 320, 3S4, 

Witchcraft, 342 to 359, 470. 

Wonderful cure, 336. 

Wood, William, his book, 62. 



^H— "^^ 7 I J David Kunkshamooshaw and Abigail his 



wife. 



07 



Cicely alias Su George, 



Mary Ponham alias Quonopohit. James Quono- 
pohit, husband of Mary, signed his name in full. 



INDIAN SIGNATURES TO THE DEED OF RELEASE 
of the Plantation Territory. 1686. See p. 442 ; also p. 468 et seq. 



P^RT I. 

NOTABLE PEOPLE 

OF 

OLDEN TIME. 



**IloLL back thou mist of the dark brown years! 
Unveil the paths our fathers trod ! 
We will lean upon their mossy tombs 
And recount their noble deeds ! 
Then shall our souls be nerved 
As by the bracing wind of the North." 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

It is the duty of every man, while sojourning in 
this unsatisfying though rather interesting world, and 
beating about amid its perplexing and endearing vicis- 
situdes, to endeavor something for the benefit of his 
miserable race. And every man intends to perform 
that duty at some time before his chance comes for 
escape hence. But how true it is that with most 
of us, that indefinite " some time " never arrives. 
Our healthful efforts are postponed till disabilities 
intervene or the better opportunities cease ; and so 
we finally wither away, still unfruitful vines. Pro- 
crastination justly bears the evil name of thief. Yet 
with what sublime resignation men yield to her even 
in their highest concerns. Some, it is true, who pass 
A* (9) 



10 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

through early and middle life in ways unapproved by 
themselves, and consequently void of real enjoyment, 
arouse, at the eleventh hour, and do much to retrieve 
their former delin'^^uencies. But such instances are 
rare, and no more to be depended on than those death- 
bed repentances which our clerical admonishers so 
constantly warn us against trusting to. Wliile one man 
makes a figure in the world after his head has begun to 
bleach, ten thousand pur.-^ue the old iinprofital)le course. 
And, reflecting in this wise, the writer, having pen 
in hand, and not being able to recall any particularly 
satisfactory achievement of his past life, considered 
whether something might not be accomplished by 
making a Book. But then the mystic dread produced 
by that impatient ejaculation of the most patient of 
men — "Behold, my desire is . . . that mine ad- 
versary had written a book" — brought him shivering 
to a stand. Presently, however, coming to the con- 
clusion that if in the attacks to which his temerity 
might expose him, no more formidable enginery than 
literary criticism were employed, annihilation, certain- 
ly, would not be the melancholy result, he bravely 
determined to proceed. Yet the labor is undertaken 
with unfeigned diffidence; for if a vicious sentiment 
should be promulgated, however unintentionally, the 
effects of the wrong might be felt long after his power 
to counter-work had ceased ; though, being void of 
evil intent, he might reasonably hope to escape the fu- 
ture punishment denounced by the worthy old Catholic 
against depraved writers ; namely, that they writhe in 
purgatory just so long as the mischievous effects of 
their writings are felt among mankind. A ver}' whole- 
some adjustment; though one under which that dread 
abode will not be likely soon to want for population. 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 11 

To keep in proper humor with an author, and most 
effectually secure the good he intends, the reader 
should, in the very first place, endeavor to bring him- 
self to a realizing sense of the exact spirit in which the 
work originated ; to explore the mind of the writer, 
60 to speak, primarily as regards his object, and sec- 
ondarily as regards his style. A writer is necessitated, 
much more than a speaker, to rely on the discernment 
and fairness of those whom he addresses, for he cannot 
resort to gestures, intonations, and the thousand little 
arts that a speaker can, to make clear his meaning and 
adorn his periods. We hope to be dealt justly with. 
Yea, more than that, generously. Most of us are great 
sticklers for justice when it falls on heads not our own. 
But when we ourselves are in danger, mercy is the 
cry. Men's ideas of justice, too, greatly vary. Few 
agree as to what it is ; or they award to it an elasticity 
capable of suiting any purpose. It is quite instructive 
to the philosophical observer to see how often the 
claims of pure justice mongers are based on the most 
arrant selfishness. What, indeed, would become of the 
best of us, if strict justice were meted out? We be- 
speak, then, the generous consideration of the reader. 

Some authors write to magnify themselves, and some 
to promote other selfish ends. Others write to in- 
struct, and others to amuse. Hence the importance 
of the suggestion just made, that it be a first object to 
search the mind of the writer whose book is in hand. 
True, the search may sometimes lead into crooked 
ways and among mists. And the reader may possibly 
come from the exploration without finding any purpose 
at all. But such instances will be rare. Every book 
has some object, or it is not worthy of the dignity of 
being burnt by the hangman. As to the present vol- 



1^, NOTABLE raOPLE. 

ume, we f>rust there will be no necessity for complaint 
in tb.is respect. It would be a matter of unbounded 
regret and mortification with the writer, should any 
reader deem the time occupied in perusing his produc- 
tion misspent ; so much so, indeed, as to move him to 
endeiivor some amends. But what amends? Pecu- 
niary? People usually look that way first. And hence 
he might ofi"er to acquit himself accordingly. But as 
no one would expect such unheard of generosity to 
extend beyond the profits of the work, and the profits 
depending on its merits, there might be some doubt as 
to the value of the off"er. 

We are to deal chiefly with scenes and characters of 
past time. And oftentimes more good maybe derived 
from the contemplation of what pertains to former 
days, than from what relates to the present, though the 
latter may in itself possess the greater merit. " What- 
ever withdraws us from the power of our senses,'* 
says the sturdy old moralist, " whatever makes the 
past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the 
present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. 
That man is little to be envied whose patriotism 
would not gain force on the plains of Marathon, or 
whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins 
of Ion." And by parity of reasoning we are forward 
to ask who can fail to be benefitted by considering the 
pregnant scenes and noble characters of New Eng- 
, land's early days ? Who would not receive inspiration 
from viewing the giant needle on Bunker Hill, the Pil- 
grim monument at Plymouth, when built, or even from 
wandering among our quaint old tomb stones? 

In old Plymouth colony tliere commences a range 
of hills, varying in height, but never reaching an alti- 



INTEODUCTORY REMARKS. 1:3 

tude rendering them eligible to the title of mountains, 
that extends eastward some sixty or seventy miles. 
These hills present great irregularities in shape, and 
diversity in soil and geological construction. They 
follow the line of the coast at distances varying from 
half a mile to six miles from the shore, and in many 
places bear strong evidence of once having been the 
boundary of the tide. Anciently they were well 
wooded ; but as population extended, the axe in many- 
places laid them bare to the genial influence of the sun, 
and orchards, gardens and arable fields took the place 
of the old vestments. And now, at intervals, the chain 
seems much broken, as most portions, likely for the 
present to repay the expense, have been reclaimed. 
Some sections, which nature left in the most wild and 
untamable condition, sti^l appear in the primeval 
aspect. 

In the vicinity of Quincy these hills present immense 
ledges of beautiful and durable granite, which afford 
an inexhaustible field for remunerative labor. Farther 
east tower stupendous cliffs of porphyry. The range 
sweeps up from Plymouth, through Norfolk and Mid- 
dlesex, and terminates in Essex, near the Merrimack. 
Should one take a view from the cupola of the State 
House at Boston, or from the top of Bunker Hill Mon- 
ument, lie might trace for many miles the undulating 
course of this interesting chain. At intervals, along 
the whole line, are detached transverse sections, great- 
er or less in extent, giving diversity to the landscape, 
and furnishing romantic nestling places for numerous 
little settlements. A principal spur traverses the 
whole length of Cape Ann, terminating at Rockport 
where the billows of the Atlantic eternally beat against 
its granite butress. 



14 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

The territory tVoiu the hills to the sea is in some 
places ahnost a perfect plain for miles in extent; in 
other places it is broken and abrupt. Some of the 
largest and most thrifty settlements of New England 
adorn and make busy this tract. Indeed, Boston itself 
is within the limit, as well as Roxbury, Cambridge, 
Charlestown, Lynn and Salem. Here and in the adja- 
cent hill country were the first explorations of the pil- 
grim fathers; and here were many of the first English 
settlements. It was in ihe rear of Boston, that the apos- 
tle Eliot commenced his pious labors, perseveringly, 
through winter's cold and summer's heat, pursuing his 
intrepid course, achieving such noble conquests and 
gaining such enduring renown. In this vicinity, too, 
some of the most stirring of the opening scenes of the 
Revolution took place. And on those bright mornings 
of April and June, when our Pine Tree Flag unfurled 
at Lexington and Bunker Ilill, the whole region re- 
sounded with the tramp of gathering patriots. 

All along this vast range of hills are disclosed such 
magnificent marine and landscape views as it is be- 
lieved are equalled nowhere else on the Atlantic coast. 

The Third Plantation occupied a central portion 
of this charming coust territor}', and was parent of the 
renowned City of Lynn, or ** Lin," as it is s})clled in the 
act bestowing tlie name ; a place known and respected 
wherever shoes are v.'orn and bay fish eaten. Several 
other ambitious towns are honored by the same parent- 
age; but Lynn seems always to have ranked as the 
most eminent of the beautiful ofi'spring of that memo- 
rable settlement; and hence the whole Plantation is 
occasionally distinguished by her euphonious name. 

It was in 1G29 that the good old Third Plantation was 



INTRODUCTORY HEMARKS. 15 

commenced. And it is our purpose to follow these 
introductorj remarks by some biographical sketches 
of the sturdy old settlers, they being eminently types 
of tho times — inierspersed by allusions and details of 
various complexion. 

There is no kind of general reading more profitabb 
than well digested biography. Every person possesses 
an instinctive propensity to imitate the actions of 
others ; and it is on this account that evil communicBr 
tions corrupt. But it is also true that a channel is 
thus afforded through which the most beneficial results 
may flow. In reading tho life of a great or good man, 
where the traits which led to his greatness or good- 
ness are clearly and judiciously delineated, the most 
healthful inspiration is imparted. 

"Plutarch's Lives" have probably moulded more 
great characters than any other collection extant, save 
the sacred writings. And how often do we find them 
spoken of by leading spirits of departed centuries, as 
well as those of modern times, as having furnished the 
models by which they endeavored to shape themselves. 
They have imparted energy to the regal arm; incor- 
ruptibility to the dauntless breast; inspiration to the 
patriot heart. Some of the loftiest principles of juris- 
prudence are in them developed, some of the noblest 
conceptions of genuine liberty enforced, some of the 
most exalted characteristics of true manhood pre- 
sented. They were the companions of Alfred, of Eliz- 
abeth, of Shakspeare, of Cromwell, of Chatham, of 
Franklin and Bonaparte ; yes, and of some of the 
stout-hearted wilderness battlers of whom we are pres- 
ently to speak. 

The history of every community may furnish char- 
acters for tho skilful biographer to delineate with ap- 



16 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

plause and profit. And such local biographies may 
perhaps in many instances prove most useful, because 
the circumstances and interests of the principals and 
those who should be the imitators are so nearly iden- 
tical as to afford a more steady and comprehensible 
hght. 

But we approach our task with diffidence, consider- 
ing how many biographers prove themselves unfit for 
the labors they undertake. The dispositions of some 
lead them to indiscriminately laud, of others to indis- 
criminately calumniate. Few have power to analyze 
character without bias, and perhaps fewer still the dis- 
position. Yet, the biographer who conceals all the 
faults of his subject because he discovers much to 
applaud, or all his virtues because he discovers much 
to condemn, betrays his trust most sadly. And then 
again, many rampant authors have their own innate 
prejudices, whims and fancies to be provided for. 
And these are at times not a little troublesome. Little 
indeed do readers know of the throes of authors — ot 
the ideas that spring up, kicking and ranting among 
the brains like unbroken colts, too ill-conditioned to 
prance before the critical and exacting world, and yet 
so impatient of restraint. If they knew they might 
pity and forgive. 

And many readers fail properly to appreciate the 
labors of an author in a work like the one now in 
hand, from entertaining divers wrong notions touching 
the quality of the information. Some suspect if they 
happen to come across anything of which they have 
not before heard, that it must be false ; forgetting that 
there may be some truths in the world with which 
they have never become acquainted — that many im- 
portant historical facts have for ages slept in private 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 17 

records ; where, having escaped the search of the an- 
tiquarian plodder, they have finally been stumbled 
upon, as it were, by the mere excursionist in history. 

It has been remarked that much of the truth of his- 
tory is stranger than fiction. It certainly is. And 
hence, worthy reader, we trust you will not question 
any of our statements because they detail strange or 
even absurd transactions. That would be to suppose 
men never do strange or absurd things. The moment 
that a relation should enter the territory of the impos- 
sible, however, it is right to reject it. And we are 
free to admit that errors will sometimes creep into the 
most dignified and solemn histories. Even the intelli- 
gent and conscientious Prescott, it has been discovered, 
was led to adopt many fictions for truth. It is not 
possible always to avoid this. And all that the best 
can safely promise, is to be faithful in the endeavor 
not to mislead. 

An untruth, when it appears upon the page of a 
book, may be the instrument of much greater mischief 
than it could have occasioned as a mere spoken word ; 
because in the book it is more enduring, more widely 
circulated, and comes before the world in more pre- 
tentious guise. Of this we are aware, and wish that 
every author would take due cognizance. Occasion- 
ally, it is true, an innocent fiction may prove an excel- 
lent illustration. In the Bible itself we sometimes find 
great truths illustrated by parable. And in this view 
a historical writer may take a little comfort ; for Avhile 
he cannot always know the truth of his statements, he 
can know their aptness to produce the desired im- 
pression. 

The ann ;ls of that favored region which was the 
scene of much that we shall relate, are rife with bril- 

2 



18 



NOTABLE PEOPLE. 



liant characters which we are persuaded would, if 
faithfully exhibited, not only shed lustre upon her 
name, but exercise an influence powerful and good. 
Yet it is not our intention to undertake anything like 
extended biographies. All we propose ic, to attempt 
a few sketches of certain early settlers — rather the 
bringing of them out as lights to show the condition 
of things during the interesting and eventful times 
when it pleased their Maker to direct their sojourn 
here. And the first of the ancient gentry with whom 
it is proposed to step upon the stage is Zachariah 
Hart, to whose name may be found on the records the 
prefix of Mister. The pseiido-aristccracy of the col- 
ony were very particular about titular distinctions. 
The simple appellation of Goodman was generally 
awarded to such as had not taken the freeman's oath, 
and the more dignified one of Mister to such as had. 
The rule, however, was not invariable. Of other titles 
something may be said hereafter. 




Primitive IIauitation. 



" With brawnie arrae and dauntless hearte, 
he strode in godlie pryde ; 
Nor ghosts, wolves, Indians, Devill's art, 
could turne his steps asjde." 

Mr. Hart was born in an ancient cathedral town, 
near the Scottish border, somewhere in the hitlierward 
verge of the sixteenth century ; it is believed in the 
year 1594. And as he had little or no religious train- 
ing, he was liable, as he grew up, to be swayed by com- 
paratively slight circumstances. He became a rigid 
puritan. And his principles were fixed, probablj', by 
the fact that the hair of his head was of a rusty yellow, 
grew rather in tufts than broadcast, and was almost as 
stiff as the bristles on a swine's back. 

It is well known that the good churchmen were 
careful in the dressing of their hair, taking much pride 
in the graceful curl and shining lock, while the dissen- 
ters dissented as strongly from all such vanities as 
from the grievous superstitions, as they deemed them, 
perpetuated by any of the fondly cherished ceremonials 
of the establishment. Slighter circumstances than 
swayed Mr. Hart in his choice of a religion, have 
Bwayed others in all ages. 

He probably had a sort of underground apprehension 
that there was a natural impediment to his becoming 
a good, or at least a shining, churchman, and so the 

(19) 



20 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

other party at once had his sympathies. And by the 
time he had attained one score and ten years, his prin- 
ciples were as well defined and stifi" as the tufts that 
adorned his head. Of the common frailties of human 
nature he possessed a competence. But he also had 
conspicuous virtues. And in this brief sketch we shall 
probably be able to show that he was one of the most 
useful and meritorious of the little band who made the 
first christian lodgment on this heathen territory. 

It is not worth while to spend time in details re- 
specting the early life of our Subject, for that was 
passed much as the early lives of others. He was sent 
to a decent school, and now punished and now re- 
warded, as his merits determined or the caprice of his 
teacher dictated. And he left the school, improved by 
his instruction and discipline. 

One thing, however, ought to be mentioned. While 
at school he lodged in an upper room, just beneath the 
window of which an outbuilding was reared. And 
over the roof of that architectural adjunct hung the 
unsuspicious branches of a fruit tree belonging to a 
neighbor. 

Zaohariah had not occupied the room long before 
the ripening fruit attracted a glance that he had to 
spare from his book. And that glance was the occa- 
sion of some reflection after his head was laid upon the 
pillow. In short, the luscious fruit was a temptation 
that could not be winked down ; and he began to lay 
plans for the possession of a share. His plans and the 
fruit were ripe at about the same time. So by the 
light of the moon he lowered himself from his window, 
stole along the ridge-pole, and then commenced a slide 
towards the eaves. Unfortunately a shower had ren- 
dered the roofing exceedingly slippery, and do what 



ZACHARIAH HART. 21 

he could it was impossible for biin to arrest his pro- 
gress downward. 

As he gracefully sailed by the golden fruit that lay 
within reach, he cast upon it that mingled look of 
shame, contempt and contrition wherewith one is apt 
to view a tempter in whose snare he is fairly caught, 
and who looks impudently up, laughing at his calamity. 
After an interesting exploration among the branches 
of the tree, he landed upon a bed of rocks, and was 
presently found and taken up very much frightened and 
somewhat weakened by the loss of blood. There was 
a terrible wound on his forehead, but no bones were 
broken ; "and he was soon able again to take his place 
in the school. In after life he derived considerable 
benefit from this adventure. 

After the healing of the wound a frightful scar was 
fortunately left. And this proved of much service to 
him, not only in a moral way, by reminding him how 
unexpectedly dangers may spring up in the path of the 
evil doer, but otherwise, by furnishing a mark that 
might indicate the performance of some perilous duty. 
And he was not backward in availing himself of the 
advantages of the providential bestowment. At one 
time it answered for a wound received in the Dutch, 
war; at another, for one received in defending a forti- 
ficatiuij against the French. And it made him a hero 
here in New England, as being a badge gained in a 
desperate conflict with Indians soon after he landed. 
We are astonished that one in those days of simplicity 
should predicate such diverse theories on a single fact; 
though we should not wonder at any thing of the kind 
in these days ; for men are now so given to l}ing that 
when one undertakes to tell the truth he becomes an 
object of suspicion, and people wonder what on earth 



22 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

his purpose can be, especially where no selfish end is 
apparent. 

Among the manifold excuses that have been urged 
for Mr. Hart is the one that his false statements were 
made under a loss of self-possession ; that is, we sup- 
pose, being suddenly asked the occasion of his scar, 
and unwilling to name the true cause, he would, in 
confused haste, attribute it to this or that imaginary 
agency. 

That people do sometimes sin under a loss of self- 
possession is no doubt true. But no instance of any 
sin excepting that of profanity committed under such 
circumstances, at this moment occurs to us. ' We are 
told of a certain minister once living in this region, who 
would sometimes, under sudden excitement or alarm, 
swear in a way that would have done dirty honor to the 
army in Flanders, but who, when the gale had passed, 
had no sort of recollection of his guilty utterances. 
And when the matter was pressed home upon liim he 
would seek to change the issue and refer to the ex- 
ample of St. Peter, declaring that on the memorable 
occasion of his denying his Master, the swearing was 
added through inadvertence. We certainly think 
Peter's denial was bad enough without his vulgar ad- 
dition, but do not learn that he ever sought to excuse 
himself on this singular ground. Still, there was inge- 
nuity in the minister's position. 

Mr. Hart's case is a little strengthened, too, by a 
statement in the journal of Obadiah Turner, which work 
will be more fully brought into notice hereafter. On 
the whole, anomalous as it may seem in one generally 
80 steady and brave, there really is reason to apprehend 
that Mr. Hart did occasionally lose his self-possession 
to a degree that left him to do things of which he 



ZACHAEIAH HART. 23 

might well have been ashamed. In Mr. Turner's jour- 
nal we find this statement: 

"Zachariah Harte was wth y® firste companie y* came 
to Lin. He worked wth greate brauerie in putting vp 
y'' firste habitation. And there being no minister wth 
them, he did make a histie praier at y® laying of y® cor- 
ner stone wch for y^ time was a stoute oake blocke. 
They do discourse mch of hjs skill and handiework 
and of hjs godlie exhortations on y^ ocacion. But jt 
hath been given oute y* he did use manie prophane 
words mch to y'' scandall of those aboute. And vpon 
hjs being reprimanded therefor he did stoutlie denie 
y® san)e ; whereat they greatlie wondered, there being 
so manie witnesses. But he further sayd y* if jt so 
seemed to them, he could say 3^* jt was onlie a wrong 
working of y® tongue, there being no euil si)eech in 
hjs hearte. But I thinke this strange talke." 

Mr. Hart joined the pilgrims at Leyden and remained 
with them there a few years. Having thus cast his lot 
with the refugees, he scorned to desert them ; and 
when they, as perils thickened, fled to these shores, 
with undaunted heart followed. In what particular ves- 
sel he came over, it does not appear. But we find him 
at Lynn, with the very first detachment of settlers. 

It was a warm day in the early part of June, 1629, 
when the little band pitched their tent among the trees 
that overshadowed tlie beautiful plain stretching from 
the hills to the sea, and immediately set about erecting 
a habitation. 

In speaking of this ''goodlie companie," some histo- 
rians have omitted to mention that Mr. Hart was one 
of them. But such a slight cannot extinguish him. 
He did more labor, sweat more, ate and drank more, 
and according to Mr. Turner, swore more on that 



24 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

eventful da}', than any other individual present. But 
they all worked with the industry of bees and beavers 
and were right glad when evening drew on. 

It should be borne in mind that on this great occa- 
sion there were several present who did not come with 
the intention of remaining. They were from Salem, 
it is presumed, and came by special appointment or 
invitation, to assist by their advice and skill in laying 
the corner stone, as it were, of the new settlement. 
Among these, as will afterwards appear, was the famous 
Roger Conant. The Captain of the day himself, was 
also one of these temporary sojourners. Now those 
historians who do not mention these, and what the 
number of them was is not readily ascertained, as among 
the first settlers, do right, for they were not settlers in 
a proper sense. Some appear to have remained a con- 
siderable time, and some to have left immediately. 
And furthermore, some who are reckoned as first set- 
tlers do not seem to have been here for the first few 
months. Indeed it was something like the signing of 
the declaration of independence ; though purporting 
to have been begun and completed on the fourth of 
July, the fact is that many if not most of the signatures 
were afiSxed at diiFerent times subsequent to that date. 
The purpose of these remarks is to remind the reader 
that though there may be apparent conflicts between 
ourselves and others who have written on the subject, 
yet all may be right. We have no thought of being 
captious, making charges of ignorance, or casting re- 
flections. 

As the glorious sun sank behind the tall pines that 
threw their dense shade upon the little clearing that 
had been made, those sturdy pioneers looked with sat- 
isfaction upon the habitation they had erected. It was 



ZACHARIAH HART. 25 

BTiflScient for temporary shelter, thougli not comely to 
the eye. On that day, for the first time, had the pri- 
mary sounds of civilization, the noise of the saw, the 
axe and the hammer, been heard in these solitudes. 
But these sounds were now hushed. 

The workmen had gathered together the tools with 
which they had been toiling, and washed in a neighbor- 
ing rivulet. The little girl and her boy companion had 
returned from their rambles, with muddy feet and stain- 
ed lips. And the whole company were gathered near 
the habitation in preparation for their evening meal. 

The venerable leader of the band was seated upon a 
stately oaken stump. The refreshing breeze played on 
his manly brow and swayed his white locks. The mild 
lustre of his hazel eye, told of the undisturbed spirit 
within. Time had plowed deep furrows along his dingy 
cheeks, and having harrowed rather unskilfully, little 
ridges of warts were left, much resembling such as are 
sometimes seen upon the hard shell gourd. He sat in 
silence, evidently contemplating the results that might 
flow from that day of small things. And had he been 
permitted to extend his vision along the vista of years 
to this our day, how glorious must have appeared to 
him the end of that vista, though some dark spots 
intervened. 

But the meditations of the worthy leader were sud- 
denly interrupted by a little occurrence which will be 
best related in the words of the old writer to whom we 
are chiefly indebted for our account of the transactions 
of that important day : 

" Y" godlie and prudent Captain of y® ocacion did 

for a time sit on y® stumpe in pleasante moode. And 

y^ others did strolle abovte as best sujted themselues 

their worke being done, save one or two who must 

B 



26 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

needs always be at work at sometliing-. Prepcntlie all 
were hurried together in greate alaniun to witness 
y*^ strainge doing of y^ goode olde man, Vtterii;g a 
luslie screame he bounded from y*' stunipe, and they 
coming vpp did discry him jumping aboule in y® oddest 
m;inner, snapping hjs fingers and throwing hjs arms 
arounde in such wise as to make all greatlie I'eare y*^ he 
had been seized wth some sudden and direfuU distrac- 
tion, and would doe harme to all y* got within hjs 
reaehe. And he did likewise puff and blow wth hjs 
mouthe and roll vpp hjs eyes in y"^ most distressful! 
WMy. 

" All were greatlie moved and did loudh'e beg of hjm 
to advertise tiiem whereof he was afflicted in so sore a 
manner. And presentlie he pointing to hjs forehead, 
they did spy there a small red spot, and swelling. 
Then did they begin to thinke y' what had happened 
vnto him was this, y* some pestigious scorpion or fly- 
ing dcvill had bitten him, and y* he was crying oute in 
agonie of paine. Goodwife Norlan did seize a hand- 
full of wett moss, and running vpp hold y*^ same vpon 
y® wounde, and y* did mch abate y*^ paine. Then said 
he, y* as he sat on y" stumpe he did spy vj)on y*^ branche 
of a tree y* stoode neare by, wjiat to Iijm seemed a 
large fruite, y*^ like of wch he had never before seen, 
being mch in size and shape like y* heade of a man, 
and hauing a grey rinde wch, as he deemed, betokened 
ripeness. There being so manie new and luscious fruits 
from time to time discovered in this faire land, none 
could know y" whole of them, and jt might be y* a 
fruit of y*' coccownut kinde might grow hereabout. 
And he said hjs eyes did mch rejoice at y" sight. 

" Seizing a stone wch lay neare, he hurled y* same 
thereat, thinking to bring jt to y® ground, and thereby 



ZACHARIAH HART. 27 

procure a daintie for y® svpper table. But not taking 
faire aime, be onb"e bit y® brancb wbereon bung y^ fruit, 
y® jarr was not enow to sbake down y** same,bvt tbere 
issued from jt as from a nest, seemingbe in great rage, 
diverse bttle winged scorpions mcb in size bke y^ large 
fenn flies on y'= marisb lands of olde Englande, bvt bav- 
ing more of a yellow color. And one of tbem bound- 
ing againste bjs forebead, did in an instant, as be 
declared, giue a moste terrible sting, wbereof came 
y^ horrible paine and agonie at web be so cried out." 

What tbe company tben did about tbe newly discov- 
ered bornet's nest, as sucb it seems to bave been — 
wbetlier tbeir curiosity overcame tbeir prudence and 
they pelted it to pieces, suffering tbe penalty whicb tbe 
outraged insects knew so well bow to inflict, or whether 
tbeir fears overcame tbeir curiosity and they let it 
alone — we are not informed. 

The interruption was not of long continuance, and 
things were soon progressing as quietly as before. 
There is our worthy friend Zacbariab Hart, busy again 
with bis axe, cbopping up fuel for tbe morrow's use. 
He is always at work and seemingly never tired. His 
abort SAvord dangles with a sort of good natured defi- 
ance at bis side. And having thrown by his slouched 
hat, the brassy light and swaying shadows fall upon 
his bristly locks giving tbem a picturesque tinge of 
yellow green. 

And tbere, with bis sinewy arms bared to tbe task 
of assisting in tbe preparation of tbe evening meal, is 
tbe renowned Roger Conant. Every reader of New 
England history knows well who be was. His image 
looms up at intervals in all the coast settlements. He 
came over in the verv infancy of the Plymoutli colony. 
And when Lyford and Oldham were expelled for their 



2& NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

seditious proceedings and retired to Nantasket, he, 
being one of their adherents, packed up and followed. 
In 1625, he was appointed to oversee the fishing and 
planting station commenced at Cape Ann. Thither he 
removed. The next year, however, he broke up the es- 
tablishment and with others "went west" — only about 
fifteen miles, to bo sure, but perhaps enough to entitle 
him to the honor of having put in motion that westward 
tide of emigration which has continued to roll on with 
continually increasing volume, to this day. He im- 
mediately began a settlement at Naumkeag, which, 
under Hebraic inspiration, was soon called Salem ; a 
name which Roger Williams, with pungent irony, used 
to render into Peace, in allusion to the almost ceaseless 
quarrels of the settlers there, as well as their severe 
treatment of himself. Conant, indeed, seems to have 
had as irresistible a passion to be present at the com- 
mencement of settlements, as his neighbor Endicott 
bad to be at sein-drawings or pig-killings. So it is 
not at all remarkable that he was present at the auspi- 
cious birth of the Third Plantation. There he was — his 
athletic form towering above the group, his sharp eyes 
glistening beneath their shaggy brows, like black dia- 
monds set in red putty — giving directions, explaining 
principles, and exhorting to christian faithfulness, in 
a voice that a juvenile hippopotamus might envy. Nor 
did he scorn any useful labor. His arms, that might 
have held asunder a struggling Heenan and Sayers, did 
not disdain to Avield the axe or rear the knotty rafter. 
Another interesting and useful personage present on 
the occasion was Mistress Huldah Collins, the portly 
dame who had been detailed for the supervision of the 
cooking department. Matters progressed with happy 
quietude during the day. But in the preparation of 



ZACHARIAH HART. 29 

the evening repast, slie bad become a little bnrrled and 
Tilso a little flurried, as cooks are liable to be at sucb 
times. So sbe must be pardoned if ber sbrill voice did 
now and tben ring discordantly in tbe ears of Roger 
and Zacbariab and tbe others who were enlisted as her 
aids. Her cap bad been thrown aside, for tbe pretty 
frill had been burned off by a straying flame and her 
long gray hair streamed and twisted round in a manner 
more observable than becoming; a sample now and then 
finding its way into the utensil upon the fire. But all 
trials must come to an end. 

She took tbe last little puffed cake from tbe frying 
pan that continued to tremble and spit over the embers, 
and dii-ected Zacbariab to give notice that all things 
were ready for the evening meal. In smoking state it 
■was served upon the temporary board erected beneath 
the spreading branches of a huge pine. The spot was 
convenient on account of the shade, and convenient to 
receive the litter shaken down by divers squirrels and 
birds who entertained themselves in hopping about 
among tbe foliage and darting envious looks upon the 
preparations below. All being ready, by direction of 
the leader a blessing was craved by honest Roger. 
And then they proceeded, in decent order, to appro- 
priately dispose of the frugal repast. No eye caught 
a. glimpse of the hideous copper face that now and then 
peered upon them from a neighboring thicket, nor of 
the painted form that stealthily glided among the gray 
trunks in the valley below. 

The meal ended, and it was now an hour of rest. 
The huge trunks that had that day fallen by tbeir sturdy 
strokes, hewn blocks, boxes and chests, furnished them 
with lounges and seats. The young and the old, in 
groups, engaged in innocent sports or grave conversa- 



30 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

tion. And the little Land were Iiappy ; happy in the 
society and sympathy of each other ; happy in their 
anticipations of the future; happy in having escaped 
the trials, temptations and persecutions of the lands 
they had left; and happy in having found so pleasant 
and peaceful a home. 

The sun went down. The crescent of the new moon 
hung in marvellous beauty above the glowing horizon 
and the stars began to twinkle in the blue deeps above. 
The pilgrim band remained enjoying the virgin sweet- 
ness of that holy eventide. It was a season for medi- 
tation ; a season and a scene in which the heart could 
not fail to be led to aspirations of the most exalted na- 
ture ; a season and a scene in which a sense of the 
deceitfulness of all earth's promises, the nothingness of 
its objects of ambition, its hopes and its fears, must 
press upon the mind in glaring contrast with the tran- 
scendant Avorth of that spiritual discipline which alone 
can satisfy and save. And no people could have had a 
more stern realization of such truths. 

The hour for repose drew near, and the venerable 
leader proposed the singing of a hymn. With one con- 
sent the sacred melody rang among the wilds to such 
purpose that there was a general rousing of the forest 
tenants of every nook within half a mile. And such 
starthng responses were heard from rock, cave and 
hollow tree, that there can be little wonder tiiat the 
pious old father imagined that the evil one was thus 
early marshalling his phalanx for an onset. This idea 
excited considerable alarm, but fortunately it was dis- 
covered that a Latin Bible and a horseshoe were in the 
camp. The idea so general among the early settlers 
that Satan had determined to destroy them by a regu- 
lar corporeal descent is easily accounted for. Their 



ZACHARIAH HART. 31 

fond conceits led them to fancy themselves the most 
pure upon earth, and hence the special objects of Sa- 
tanic jealousy and wrath. They did not seem once to 
realise tliat the old brimstone gentleman must have 
had many other spots in the wide world to keep an eye 
on, or might content himself with a general oversight 
of their progress, or, perhaps, despatch one of his trusty 
marshals to keep watch and ward. No, no, it could 
not be possible, in their view, but that he looked upon 
them, though few in numbers, as the most valiant and 
determined champions in the whole world of his ad- 
versaries. 

The pious song w^as ended. Then they all arose with 
uncovered heads, the aged with holy aspirations and 
the young with damp resignation receiving the bap- 
tism of evening dew, and listened to a prayer, within 
the ample verge of which was comprehended a citation 
of all the wants and woes in mind, body or estate of 
each individual present ; a thanksgiving for the mercies 
and benefits of the past day ; and a petition for care 
and protection during the coming hours of repose. 
Nothing appeared to be forgotten ; not even the acci- 
dental killing of a gray squirrel and the destruction of 
a four foot snake. But whether the latter was acci- 
dental or otherwise the prayer seemed to leave in 
doubt; the equivocation probably arising from the cir- 
cumstance that the snake was forced to bid adieu to 
this happy life at the particular instance of the vener- 
able leader himself. 

And Avhy is it, that snakes are so universally feared 
and detested? Many of them are among the most 
graceful and beautiful of the whole animal creation. 
Some are in a peculiar sense fascinating. And with 
very few exceptions they are timid and entirely harm- 



32 NOTABI.E PEOPLE. 

less. It seems as if the universal horror of them among 
us could only arise from some fancied connection with 
that old serpent, the devil — though many who profess 
no fear of the devil are yet afraid of snakes. The hor- 
ror lies in education, not in nature, for the Indians and 
many uncivilized people rather fancy them as compan- 
ions. A question arises : Is it right to kill harmless 
snakes ? The writer was once walking in the woods 
with a clergyman "when a large gloss}' snake, beauti- 
fully marked with gay colors crossed the path. Our 
clerical friend by an instant blow with his cane disa- 
bled him. Following up the blow, by others, vigor- 
ously applied, tlie reptile soon lay writhing piteously. 
But during all this exercise the godly man was declar- 
ing that he had never been able to satisfy himself that 
it was right to kill harmless snakes. As lookers on, we 
could not avoid the reflection that it Avould be most 
satisfactory to the snake to have such violent proceed- 
ings suspended till the question in casuistry was set- 
tled. But the reptile ghost was soon 3'ielded up and 
there the matter ended. 

Most of the serpent kind undoubtedly possess great 
cunning and manage their little transactions with birds, 
toads, mice and such savory flesh wnth great shrewd- 
ness. And that they possess extraordinary domestic 
attachments seems not to admit of doubt. It is said 
that the male and female will sometimes even die for 
each other. The writer once had occasion to notice a 
reall}' pathetic instance. A workman on his premises 
killed a large black snake, and was requested to let the 
body remain exposed, to ascertain if a companion 
would not soon appear. Watch was kept and in a few 
days a snake of the same kind and of similar size ap- 
peared. An unsuccessful effort was made to capture 



ZACHARIAH HART. 33 

liim; and after a few days more he was seen so fre- 
quently as to make it seem as if he had taken up his 
abode thereabout, resolutely determined to effect some- 
thing. But he wan finally found lying exposed near a 
frequented path, not far from the now decaying remains 
of the other, and manifesting no disposition to escape. 
He was easily despatched, making no attempt to avoid 
the fatal blows. The whole thing appeared so much 
as if he had come in search of his lost companion, had 
found her, and being satisfied that she was dead, was 
ready to throw his OAvn life away, as to be really 
touching. 

But to proceed. The prayer ended. It was from 
an honest and faithful heart. And though for these 
many years, near half a score of churches, or meeting 
houses, as the old puritans would prefer to call them, 
have stood almost within a stone's throw of that hal- 
lowed spot, never has an evening breath borne up a 
petition more heartfelt and effectual. 

Of the habitation which was the product of that day's 
toil a word may be said. It was formed of the trunks 
of trees, interlaced with green branches, savory in 
their smell but dampening in their effects. And it un- 
fortunately turned out, too, that not being acquainted 
with the botany of the region they had interwoven a 
considerable quantity of poisonous material, which 
presently laid up about half of the company. This 
untoward event was of course set down as another of 
Satan's contrivances to harrass and terrify them. 

The structure was sufficiently capacious to accom- 
modate a score or upwards with shelter, comfortable 
or otherwise, as each might determine for himself 
The male and female departments were separated by a 
partition of branches and fern, diversified here and 
B* 3 



34 f NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

there by a more opiiqne patch of blanket or garment. 
No chimney or fireplace was necessary, as the cooking 
could well be done without, in nature's great kitchen; 
and there also, as to that matter, could the eating be 
done. And besides, this caravansary-like structure as 
has before appeared was designed only for temporary 
purposes. When at evening it was illuminated by the 
red light of numerous flaring pine knots it made quite 
a hospitable appearance ; and was sufficiently attractive 
to draw the friendly attention of myriads of mosquitos. 
And during the night, also, sundry wild animals seemed 
to think it polite to make calls on the new comers. 
Among them was a gentlemanly bear, whose curiosity 
was so for excited that in addition to snuffing and rub- 
bing his nose against the posts, he undertook to ascer- 
tain the strength of the erection by the strength of his 
claws, not once appearing to dream that Roger Conant 
was there, that he had a gun, and that the gun was 
loaded and liable to go off. He was greatly astonished 
when the weapon was discharged directly in his face, 
and more astonished still when he found himself flayed 
and hanging from a walnut tree limb, with Zachariah 
Hart, bloody knife in hand, viewing him by the light 
of a lantern and with grinning satisfaction declaring 
his weakness for fat bear steak. This certainly did not 
seem to be doing the handsome thing by one of the 
first neighbors Avho had the politeness to call. But 
those imperiled old pioneers were not in a situation to 
yield much to considerations of mere courtesy. 

The night was balmy and brilliant. And dififerent 
indeed were the surroundings from which our little 
colony were to receive their first impressions from 
those which encompassed their forlorn brethren wiicn 
first landing at Plymouth. There, the wintry winds 



ZACHAEIAH HART. 35 

howled and the drifting snows danced eddies, while 
the leafless old branches creaked a surly welcome. 
Here, the summer breeze gambolled among the sweet 
fern and blushing flowers, while the unfettered moun- 
tain rill and the gay bird warbled their compliments. 

Such is a brief history of the first day of this now 
famous City of Lynn ; so famous that even a railroad 
locomotive bears its name. We look down the shadowy 
vista of antiquity, and behold the lusty host who came 
with battle axes and trumpets to lay the foundation 
stones of Babylon ; upon the bearded band, with broad 
phylacteries, who toiled in uprooting the olive trees 
that Jerusalem might be built; upon the strong armed 
adventurers who labored in cementing the basement 
walls of Rome. But nowhere can we find a nobler 
band than those who toiled and sweat on the moment- 
ous occasion just noticed. Their limbs were nerved 
by the beautiful sunshine of early summer, and their 
hearts inspired by the more beautiful sunshine of 
christian hope. 

Zachariah Hart, the subject of the present biograph- 
ical sketch was one of the most active and consequen- 
tial personages among that pioneer band, though not 
the leader, as has before appeared. He was at this 
time a man of middle age, in form extremely weU de- 
veloped, and endowed with great physical strength and 
courage. His well tried powers soon pointed him out 
as th« most suitable person in the settlement to con- 
duct the wolf and bear hunting expeditions. Indeed, 
he stood foremost in afl perilous enterprises ; and the 
Indians soon came to stand more in fear of him than of 
any other man with a white face ; not to say that his 
was very white, for all the lower parts remained an 
unreclaimed jungle of hair, while above, appeared a 



3d NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

sunburnt region resembling a mixture of Spanish brown 
and beach sand. 

We spoke of his activity. But that was not his 
greatest virtue. He was persevering, unmurmuring ; 
and, under every discouragement, kept his spirits up ; 
not in the way that some of his neighbors did, by pour- 
ing spirits down, but by constant and useful occupa- 
tion. How many unfortunate ones there are, who, 
conceiving themselves born to ill luck, sit down dis- 
heartened, and pass their days in repining indolence. 
Ten to one, they never deserved success. And no one 
ought to complain of evil fortune if he never did any 
thing to deserve good fortune. What a useful example 
did Mr. Hart present for the contemplation of such 
grumblers. 

But our Subject was by no means a perfect man. 
We feel bound to state this, as by setting him up too 
high, we might discourage those who would perceive 
the hopelessness of emulating unattainable virtues. He 
had one leading vice ; and that being patent, it may be 
inferred that otherwise he was comparatively guiltless, 
for it is seldom that more than one great vice inhabits 
a human heart at the same time. Metaphorically speak- 
ing, the hounds of the nether world are not accustomed 
to hunt in couples. The grievous vice to which we 
allude, was the inordinate love of tobacco, or "ye vile 
weed tabakka " as it was called in his day. His indul- 
gence of this evil habit was bad for the morals of those 
around him ; and the dreuling evidence of it, which 
sometimes appeared when he was earnestly wrestling 
with his perplexing duties, was bad for their stomachs. 

Of the learning of Mr. Hart, enough has already 
been said. And of his piety it may be remarked that 
it was of that rigid, dogmatical and uncompromising 



ZACHAEIAH HART. 37 

character, that rendered him unfit to undertake a mis- 
sionary enterprise, or to lead in a community of intel- 
ligent minds. 

Before Mr. Batohellor, the first minister, came, Mr. 
Hart exercised his gifts as preacher and exhorter, 
to quite as great an extent as was acceptable, in an 
informal way. And a Mormon prophet would not 
have been more egotistical or denunciatory than he. 
But on the appearance of Mr. Batchellor he gracefully 
retired, leaving the sacred field to be occupied by one 
more learned and disciplined, indeed, but yet hardly 
better endowed in view of the virtues of patience and 
humility. 

The services that Mr. Hart rendered the infant set- 
tlement were very great and worthy of remembrance. 
On two occasions, in severe winter weather, when 
provisions were scanty and supplies not to be obtained 
from any of the neighboring settlements, he traveled 
on foot to the Plymouth colony and successfully nego- 
tiated for what was needed. * 

He was once chief actor, or equal actor with his four 
footed antagonist, at a cave near Sadler's Rock, in a 
scene much like that at Pomfret from which old Put- 
nam gained such laurels. But he did not, like the hero 
of Pomfret, come unscathed from the conflict. A mag- 
nificent wound adorned his breast, which as it healed, 
left a noble scar. This good fortune took some of the 
lustre from the old scar on the forehead. 

Mr. Hart died at the good old age of three score and 
twelve years. He was the father of a family of four, 
two hopeful sons and as many aspiring daughters. 
And they, in turn, became fathers and mothers. Sev- 
eral of his descendants were of some account in the 
world. 



38 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Among them were brave Harts, for two took the 
field in the great King Philip war, and four in the 
Revolution : bewitching Harts, for one dame was im- 
prisoned, in 1692, for practicing witchcraft on Mr. Shep- 
ard's maid, and another turned the head of a lieutenant 
governor by not returning his love : learned Harts, for 
two were lawyers, two doctors, four schoolmasters and 
two traveling lecturers : great Harts, for one weighed 
four hundred pounds, and another was seven feet tall. 

John Hart, one of the signers of the declaration of 
independence, seems to have been a descendant of 
Zachariah, he having proceeded from a scion that was 
at an early period lopped from the Third Plantation 
stock and planted in New Jersey. 

Another descendant, a century or so since, by a for- 
tunate matrimonial alliance, became connected with a 
titled and wealthy old English family. That family 
seems now on its last legs, and those somewhat attenu- 
ated, there being but a solitary individual remaining, 
audjie nearly four score years of age. So it may not 
be long before those of the Hart line, hereabout, may 
have an opportunity to devote a portion of their spare 
change to feeing agents and attornies to look after 
shares in a large estate in the old country that goes 
begging for heirs. And it is hoped that they may be 
more successful than such phantom chasers usually are. 

Edm. Hart, architect of the Constitution — we mean 
the frigate, not the political constitution — was a Lynn 
man, though we are not sure that he was of the Zacha- 
riah lineage. He certainly did honor to the place of his 
birth as well as to himself, by his skill and faithfulness. 
And it must be concluded that he did not swindle gov- 
ernment much, through the contract, for he lived in 
those unsophisticated days when it was not customary 



ZACHARIAH HART. 39 

for every one to look upon government as a fat goose 
made ready for all to pick ; particularly as he died in 
moderate circumstances. 

Another descendant was Alpheus Hart, who had an 
extensive orchard just about where the central rail 
road station now is. He made great quantities of 
cider for the Boston and Salem markets ; and when he 
got a little muddled, in trying the quality, was for 
stirring up mischief generally. He was several times 
put in the stocks, near the meeting house, and other- 
wise kindly dealt with, but apparently to little purpose. 
But finally, all of a sudden, a- new fountain seemed to 
spring up in him. He came out a warm politician ; 
bought a new suit of clothes ; left off drinking ; remov- 
ed to Reading ; and ultimately became a shining light 
in the General Court. ♦ Thus presenting a most aston- 
ishing metamorpfhosis. Politics generally ruins ; here 
it saved. Perhaps, however, the salvation is to be 
attributed to something else, and that it should be said 
he was saved in spite of his politics. 

Another descendant of Mr. Hart attained a high 
position at Boston, some scores of years since, but 
came down with such a jerk that his spine was dislo- 
cated. And that was the end of him. Indeed, the 
family history of Mr. Hart is not very flattering ; but 
yet it is no doubt true that they have turned out quite 
as good as the average of families. And there is a 
sort of negative comfort in that. 

We have spoken of the unyielding nature of Mr. 
Hart's religious principles. But there was one occa- 
sion on which he was in imminent hazard of deviatincr. 
And that was when the celebrated Mrs. Hutchinson 
held her meeting at Lynn, in 1636; of which it will 
probably be in our way to give some account on a 



40 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

subsequent page. It may be, however, that he was 
ensnared more by her personal charms than her doc- 
trines. 

And speaking of Mrs. Hutchinson leads us to allude 
to the inconsistencies of which so much has been 
said, as strongly marking the character of the puritan 
settlers. If they claimed that their object in coming 
here was to enjoy liberty of conscience, they certainly 
did not seem to think the same liberty desirable for 
others. On that ground alone can their treatment of 
this lady and her adherents, as well as their violent 
proceedings against the Quakers, Baptists and others, 
be explained. This was a curious kind of religious 
liberty ; and in what way it was an illustration of the 
godly principle better than the English or even the 
Romish church afforded, it would puzzle one to deter- 
mine. But, for reasons that may presently appear, the 
reader is reminded that there were substantial differ- 
ences in several important respects between the Ply- 
mouth and Massachusetts settlers. And no doubt 
many individual immigrants of character, themselves 
misunderstood the real objects of the patentees. 

The first members of the Bay Colony, as a general 
thing, were superior to those of the Plymouth. The 
settlement of Massachusetts was commenced under a 
well-ordered emigration, in which not a fgw of the 
leading people of the mother country were interested. 
And the purpose was to found an orderly and prosper- 
ous commonwealth, as well as to secure an asylum 
from persecution. 

Some of the first who came here were persons of 
dignity and influence at home, eminent for political 
sagacity and learning as well as for piety. And not a 
few were ambitious in a worldly way. The immi- 



ZACHARIAH HART. 41 

grants weie liberally provided with things necessary 
for their comfort and prosperity. Some of them were 
not Puritans but Episcopalians, and hence did not 
come to avoid persecution for their religion ; a fact 
which has been made strange use of by some histo- 
rians. But the number of churchmen was not by any 
means sufficient to change tlue character of the settle- 
ments from that of genuine puritanism, — puritanism 
characterized by the most rigid demands, as we have 
seen. 

The earliest settlers of Plymouth, on the other hand, 
were of more equal condition and religious character ; 
a forlorn band, destitute and depressed, fleeing from 
evils against which they had little power to contend, 
and seeking an asylum where they might pass their 
lives in peace, pondering upon the great matters of 
revealed truth, and repressing all aspirations of the 
worldly heart after temporal greatness and renown. 
And no shade of suspicion has been cast upon the pu- 
rity of their puritanism. 

We cannot follow Mrs. Hutchinson through her ca- 
reer, brief though it was, of exaltation and adversity, 
to its calamitous termination. Her teachings created 
a ferment that threatened to tear asunder the very 
frame of government. But it seems as if the mischief 
might have been easily avoided. Had the authorities 
proceeded in a different manner, and as the authorities 
of this day would proceed, little trouble, one Avould 
think, could have ensued. The Come-outers, as they 
were called, who created some disturbance here in 
Essex county about the year 1840, were dealt with in 
that sensible way that caused them soon to disappear. 
And what we say in regard to the mistake in the way 
of proceeding against this woman may perhaps apply 



42 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

with equal force to the proceedings against the Qua- 
kers and Baptists. 

The mistake made by the old puritan authorities 
seems to have been in proceeding against Mrs. Hutch- 
inson as a teacher of false doctrine ; in denouncing her 
opinions as heresies and herself as a heretic ; instead 
of directly charging her with breaking a positive law, 
if she were guilty of so doing, and requiring her to 
answer, like any other law breaker, before the estab- 
lished courts. By charging her with being a dissemi- 
nator of erroneous doctrine, they opened the great 
questions of right of conscience and religious liberty. 
And they also opened the door for an examination of 
the doctrine taught, as well as a channel through which 
might flow in upon her the sympathy of enlightened 
minds, for there were those around her, imbued with 
the spirit of true religious liberty. In this case, the 
course pursued by the authorities was certainly the 
most troublesome one for themselves ; for she was un- 
questionably a woman of strong and subtile mind, fer- 
vid and chaste eloquence, charitable and pure life. 

Governor Vane — of whose visit to Lynn we shall 
have something to say, a few pages hence — as well 
as other eminent men, earnestly sympathised with Mrs. 
Hutchinson. His views of true liberty appear to have 
been in some respects in advance of the views of those 
around him, and he had nerve enough to withstand 
almost any pressure. And had he remained longer in 
the country he might have averted the terrible fate that 
finally overtook that persecuted woman. 

We have spoken of the superiority of some of the 
early immigrants under the Massachusetts patent — em- 
inent people, whose footprints on the virgin soil of 
New England can never be effaced. Vane was one of 



ZACHARIAH HAET. 43 

these. And by giving a few glimpses of his character 
and course we shall shed light upon some features of 
the past. 

Sir Henry Vane, though perhaps we should omit 
the Sir, as he was not knighted till after his return to 
England, it will be recollected, was the fourth Gov- 
ernor under the first charter — or we might say the 
fifth, for Matthew Cradock was chosen by the Company 
in England, though he never came over — having been 
elected in 1636 ; at which time he was but twenty-four 
years of age, and had been in the country but about a 
year. And though he remained here for a short time 
only, he will be remembered as long as interest in our 
history shall be felt. In him, however, were united 
great contrarieties of character. And his official life 
here was turbulent and on .the whole anything but 
satisfactory. His subsequent career in England has 
furnished the theme for many a puzzling as well as 
glowing passage in the history of his time. Hume, 
Clarendon, Hallam, Burnet, Macintosh and others give 
sketches of his character and opinions of his writings, 
and it is quite amusing to observe their difierences. 
In their attempts to analyse his character they seem to 
be engaged in a most embarrassing task, and rather 
ready, each, to seize upon this or that prominent point 
and thence take a general view. 

Milton, in a poetic panegyric, calls Vane the eldest 
son of Religion. But the sayings of Milton are cer- 
tainly of little value, when his temper and peculiar 
principles come in play. His passions seem to have 
led to a bewilderment in controversy ; while in poetry, 
all mankind admit he was sublime. Macintosh pro- 
nounces Vane scarcely inferior to Bacon in mental 
endowment. 



44 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Vane belonged to one of the most distinguished 
families in the kingdom, Avas highly educated, and had 
travelled in the continental countries before coming to 
America. He had also been early called into associa- 
tion with leading personages. King Charles himself 
was occasionally entertained in feudal pomp at Raby 
Castle, the home of the Vanes. 

While yet a mere stripling, as it were. Vane became 
firmly set in puritan principles. This created much 
grief, and the celebrated Archbishop Laud was ap- 
pointed to the task of endeavoring to lead back his 
straying feet to the fold of the establishment. But all 
efforts to reclaim him were unsuccessful. His father 
was a member of the privy council, and felt much dis- 
tressed at the estrangement of his son. And when the 
young man announced his determination to join the 
puritans in America, all but coercive measures were 
looked to for his detention. But the king rather ap- 
proved of his design, probably thinking that he might 
be less troublesome here than at home, and parental 
desire succumbed to regal. 

Hither he came ; but, as before intimated, remained 
a short time only ; sufficiently long, however, to create 
a great ferment among the political and religious ele- 
ments. After his return to England his restless soul 
continued to work among the loftier interests of man- 
kind. But we cannot follow his course there. It is 
sufficient to remark that he became a member of Par- 
liment as early as 1640, and held various high official 
positions, sometimes with honor to himself and profit 
to the people ; and sometimes to the injury of both. 
Brilliant and yet perplexing passages appear all along 
his course till its termination on the scaffold, in June 
1662. He had taken an active part in the affairs of 



ZACHAEIAH HART. 45 

the Commonwealth, though opposed to Cromwell, who 
uttered many bitter things against him, induced, prob- 
ably, by the circumstance that he would not aid in 
schemes for the personal aggrandizement of the Pro- 
tector. And he was beheaded for treason to the mon- 
archy. No doubt he was a republican, and desired to 
establish a republic. And hence, in the settlement of 
accounts at the Restoration his head was required. 
At least the vacillating monarch seemed to think so. 

One of the most deeply regretted occurrences of 
Vane's life appears to have been the strange affair of 
the " red velvet cabinet." Its startling effect on the 
fortunes of the Earl of Strafford, and the grievous es- 
trangement it produced between him and his noble 
father, are well known to the reader of English history. 
View it as we may it was a deep stain upon his honor. 
True, Parliament undertook to purge it of dishonor by 
a vote. But funny things are sometimes done by vote. 
A Roman council once voted Jupiter's satellites out 
of heaven. And the French Convention voted the 
Almighty out of the universe. . 

Some worthy writers have spoken of Vane's conduct 
as fanatical and ruinous in its tendency ; of his princi- 
ples as variable and often dangerous ; of his writings 
as confused and contradictory. But he must have 
been a man of commanding talents, or he could not 
have sustained himself in such positions as he occu- 
pied. It is, without doubt, however, well that he did 
not long remain in the colony ; for his persevering 
wilfulness certainly would have stirred up dangerous 
if not fatal disturbances. 

Soon after he was elected Governor, Vane made a 
tour to the eastern towns. On the ninth of July he 
entered Lynn. Everybody turned out, and a great 



46 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

parade took place. Finding an account in the journal 
of Obadiah Turner we cannot do better than adopt it: 

" Y« morning being faire Govn"^ Vane and hjs compa- 
nie appeared betimes wthin y^ towne, all on horse 
backe, & making some show of armes, as swords, mus- 
quettes, and halberds. Likewise behinde them walked 
some Indjans, stepping verie proudlie, gaylie painted, 
and haveing many coloured eagle feathers vpon their 
heads and scarlitt & yellow cloths about their bodies. 
And in their hands they carried tommyhawkes and 
speares, and some long pipes. A lustie trumpeter did 
goe before y^ Govn"" whose blasts did ringe in y® 
woodes wth such a mightie ringe as seemed enow to 
shake down y® walls of anie Indjan Jericho. His trum- 
pett was of shining brass and he was begirt wth a red 
sash and had a cap of bear skin so mighty in size, y* 
seeminglie he was more head than bodie. Y® trumpett 
advertised all y® people y* y® Govn' was with vs, and 
there was presentlie mch running to behold IiiiTi. 

" At y" house of Goodman Dextor they did halt to 
recruit somewhat, by meate and drinke. And thither 
did manie assemble to make their dutiful obeisance. 
Y® Govn"^ was very gratious, tho grave & thotfull, and 
gaue mch godlie counsell wch was well receaved. 
Zachariah Harte was there, all y® time, making hjm- 
self verie common, as he would faine act y"^ parte of 
usher. And he must needes shake hands over and 
over with y'' Govn*" and secretaire bidding them wel- 
come againe and againe. He would have all y® men 
and women make their respects. Likewise he seized 
y® children & took them in his armes to y® Govn"" that 
hee might speake to them and chuck them vnder y® 
chinn. 

" Y® stale of y- Govn'' was so prolonged y' most had 



ZACHARIAH HART. 47 

time to appeare. And seeminglie hee was much 
pleased wth hjs entertainment, making manie inqviries 
regarding our affaires ; in a particular manner touch- 
ing our gospel priviledges, our husbandrie, our fish- 
eries, and our defences against y" sauvages and other 
potent adversaries, roareing devills and all y* would 
distress God his people. And he did discourse pleas- 
antlie of our future increase, saying y* this bee a most 
goodlie inheritance, wth noble woodes and fields and 
waters wth aboundance of savorie fish : and needing 
nothing save stoute heartes and strong hands to make 
y® place one of great prosperitie, wch jt must in time 
surelie come to bee. And God bee praised y* jt 
is soe. 

" Thomas Newhall hee did make some discovrse to 
y® Govn^, informing of our dutifull love to him and 
hopes of mch good from hjs godlie life and expe- 
riences. And hee made known to y® Govn"" y* tho wee 
did not make discharge of ordnance on his comeing, as 
y® people of Salem would likelie doe on hjs entering 
theire towne, jt was not from haveing a mind against 
soe doeing, but because wee had not y'' meanes Avhere- 
with to acquit ourselves of y* "honor, y" people of 
Salem haveing y® daie before sent over for y^ big gunn 
wch we had borrowed from them. 

" When y" Govn'" and his corapanie would proceed 
they were detained somewhat at y® river crossing by 
reason of a parte of y® bridge haveing of a sudden 
broke downe. So wee mvst needes gather hastilie 
wth our axes and other tooles to repaire y" damage, 
they patientlie waiting y* while. While y* worke was 
going brisklie on, Zachariah Harte hee fell into y' 
riuer and wee were some putt to jt to get him oute. 
And when wee had him oute y*^ bonie tayl of a horse 



48; NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

shoe crab was sticking throiigli his nose. Bnt no 
other disaster happened on y^ occacion, and presentlie 
they were all safelie ouer. 

" Att M"^ Newhall his house they did againe halt, 
and y* Govn' and secretaire going in did hold some 
private discourse wth y" grave men of y" towne, wch 
being ended he would saie something more on y« 
greate matters of religion, and it be given oute y* he 
hath some views not soe well liking to manie godlie 
people, vpon y^ keeping of y® Lord his day ; for they 
saie he doth boldlie declare y* there be no warrant of 
scripture for y" observance thereof; saying y* all must 
be blind who doe not see y* what wee call y« Lord his 
dale is but a festivall established by y'' popish church 
in remembrance of y® resurrection, and not meant 
for a Sabbath ; and saying, too, y' y® great archbishop 
Laud declared vnto hjm y* soe likewise was hjs beliefe. 
He thot contrariwise till being putt vpon examination, 
when he did come to y^ same mind wth y^ bishop. 
But our Govn"^ being yet young and some giuen to 
change he may presently come oute from svch oppin- 
ions. Some other godlie people hereabout have laid 
holde of y*' same notion, and where these things will 
end I know not; y® more because they who thvs 
thinke be of y^ learned and wise. But wee be in God 
his hand & I trust no evill will come vppon vs. • 

" Wee finde y® Govn' trulie a man of partes and faire 
presence, wth learning and gravitie. He hath bin in y^ 
greate school of Geneva. But I must saie y* he doth 
mch loue to doe things in his own waie, & dispiseth 
covnsel ; wch I greatlie feare will presentlie lead to 
trouble and strife. 

" When they had againe taken meate and drinke, y® 
Govn' mch admiring y® sauce of craunberries made by 



ZACHAEIAH HART. 49 

Dame Newliall, spreading it thick vppon his bread, 
they departed. And as they moued along wee did 
make readie & blast divers rockes, wch by theire loude 
reports did well answer for ordnance. 

"In y® afternoone wee did heare y® noise of y** Salem 
cannon wch certified vs y* y^ Govn"" and y'^ others had 
reached y* plantation. So ended y® great ocacion of 
Govn^' Vane his comeing." 

To return to Mr. Hart. He does not appear to have 
accumulated any great amount of this world's goods, 
but he always lived comfortably. Perhaps he read his 
Bible enough to learn the danger of wealth. 

If we take a survey of the community we shall find 
it the same now that it was in Mr. Hart's rude times, 
the same as it always is, in regard to men's character- 
istics. Some live within their means ; some up to 
their means ; some up to their expectations, and some 
up to their hopes. The first are comfortable and se- 
cure; the second on dangerous ground; and the others 
on ground that is quite sure occasionally to upheave 
disastrously. Mr. Hart belonged to the prudent class. 
He left a comely homestead, several fair acres, a share 
or two in some fishing boats and lobster nets, a cow, 
pigs, poultry and a famous bear trap of his own 
invention. 

But we cannot ask the reader to tarry longer in 
company with Mr. Hart ; though if he never finds him- 
self in worse company he will be remarkably fortunate. 
We must dismiss the patriarch by simply adding that 
he lived to see this community, in the fostering of 
whose infancy his best energies had been spent, and 
for whose prosperity his most fervent prayers had 
been offered, in a flourishing and happy condition. 
And when he laid down to his everlasting rest there 
C 4 



50 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

were kindred to weep and associates to hold hira in 
grateful remembrance. There was not, perhaps, an 
individual in the settlement whose loss would have 
been more keenly felt, for there was not another who 
could so readily turn his hand to every sort of useful 
labor, or who had better judgment in directing his in-, 
dustry. The wintry storms did not protect the hale 
old trees of the forest, from his sturdy strokes ; nor did 
the melting suns of summer, so enervating to the early 
comers, drive him from the field. And he had a liberal 
share of that courage, perseverance and shrewdness 
from which our boasted Yankee character is derived. 

Mr. Hart was not a learned man. But there were 
enough learned ones without him. And the success 
of the Plantation was in a great measure owing to the 
happy intermingling of classes. Had all directed their 
attention chiefly to intellectual pursuits, things would 
soon have come to nought. And, on the other hand, 
had they all been mere workers, without some trained 
intellects to counsel and direct, poverty and servility 
would have characterized these days. 

We repeat that Mr. Hart was not a learned man. 
But the learning of the schools does not always make 
men better. True, it enables them to do more good. 
But it also enables them to do more evil. It adds 
to the happiness of some ; to the misery of others. 
The common schools of our day are much lauded. 
But what is there taught in them save that which 
is calculated to promote mere temporal success? Is 
not moral training most sadly neglected ? And is 
this in accordance with early New England ways ? 
Is it not indisputably true that the people of thia 
day are inclined to place intellectual culture above 
moral? And, lastly, is that the right thing? 



obadIj^h turner. 

" With honest hearte and pleasantlie, 
the chronicler hath writ; 
And he was there to heare and see; 
soe who than he more fit." 

The next of our worthies of earlier date to be 
brought into notice is the one whose name is placed 
above, and to whom we have already more than once 
alluded. He appears to have been one of the most 
energetic, fair minded and hopeful of the personages 
present at the laying of the foundation stones of this 
now towering community. Of his porscnal hi3tory, 
however, we know but little, excepting what is derived 
from a journal which he appears to have written up 
with much care and diligence. This journal is now of 
great value both from its comprehensiveness and reli- 
ability. In it, we find recorded, in quaint language, 
many of the common events of life as they transpired 
among our forefathers. It may be spoken of as a 
series of graphic pictures, illustrating the every day 
life of the early settlers and the circumstances by 
which they were surrounded. And Mr. Turner has 
agreeably interspersed his details of facts with sage 
remarks, keen thrusts and frolicksome delineations. 
He evidently had a mind wakeful to objects of humor, 
and the usual attendant, a vein of sentimentality. He 
also possessed sound judgment and a clear perception 

(51) 



52 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

of the duties devolving upon those who attempt to lay 
foundations upon which are to rest the liberties and 
rights of others. 

The journal of Mr. Turner fell into the hands of the 
writer by one of those fortunate turns that sometimes 
happen to a man, to wit, the turning over of a barrel 
of old papers. And said turn took place while ransack- 
ing the garret of an aged relative. A large deposit 
was found of collections made by an ancestor, who 
seems to have been very industrious in collecting and 
preserving whatever related to colonial days earlier 
than his own. We might perhaps say that most of the 
historical learning of a local character developed in 
these pages, was derived from this source. In some 
instances, however, labor was required to shape it for 
convenient use. Mr. Turner was in most cases veiy 
methodical and clear ; yet there were occasions when 
his pen produced such involutions as are not easily 
unraveled. But we cannot speak so well as this even 
of most of the other manuscripts. Mr. Turner appears 
to have been quite liberal in his views ; so much so, 
indeed, as to justify the suspicion that he leaned some- 
what towards episcopacy. But yet he was by no 
means free from the notions of the good puritans re- 
garding the corporeal onsets of the Devil and the 
necessity of keeping constantly on the alert to avoid 
falling into the snares and traps set all about by satanic 
hands. 

In the journal of Mr. Turner we find few of those 
improbable stories of perils and natural wonders, that 
most of the early writers on New England affairs loved 
to indulge in. They certainly endeavored to make 
the most of wonders ; seeming to emulate the old 
Spaniards in their accounts of Mexico and Peru. It is 



OBADIAH TUENEE. 53 

strange that historians fall into such errors ; thus bring- 
ing discredit upon themselves and suspicion upon 
others. It were better for one even to omit telling 
improbable truths than to be so careless of damaging 
his character for veracity. It is refreshing, therefore, 
to have in hand such a work as that in question. And 
we bless the author's memory for the valuable legacy 
to posterity. 

Mr. Turner was a native of the north of England, and 
was born, it appears, in the year 1606. He seems to 
have come here, not because of any oppression in his 
own country, but, like many others, to seek his fortune 
or gratify a love of adventure. And he appears, soon 
after his arrival, to have given up all thought of re- 
turning to his native land. He was a young man at 
the time of his advent here and lived to the good old 
age of between three and a half and four score years. 
His journal, though in its latter pages somewhat im- 
perfect as to dates, and bearing evidence of a trem- 
bling hand and waning light, is brought down to the 
year 1681. It commences in 1630; thus covering a 
full half century. 

The reader will not understand that we have quoted 
in full or invariably preserved the original order. 
Many of the most interesting passages have been en- 
tirely omitted, for the reason that in other parts of 
this volume the same subject might be in hand, and it 
is an object to avoid unnecessary repetition. We 
mention this, lest it might be imagined that Mr. Turner 
had omitted even allusion to persons and events which 
it will elsewhere be found appeared to us worthy of 
being brought prominently into view. It is really 
wonderful how few things of importance, escaped the 
notice of the worthy and wakeful journalist. Indeed 



54 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

he often notes, with gratifying minuteness, matters 
which at the time must have appeared to be of Httle 
moment. 

In the orthography we have made a few changes for 
the reason that the original spelhng would, in those 
instances, have perplexed the reader. And occasion- 
ally a slight change in the syntax has been ventured 
on. But beyond these, we have endeavored to be 
faithful to the text. And these last remarks will ap- 
ply to extracts which we have introduced from other 
ancient records and memoranda, and will explain what 
otherwise might appear a remarkable similarity of 
style ; a similarity by the way, which will much aid 
the reader. In writing, different individuals seem to 
have pursued systems almost peculiar to themselves, 
in some respects. In the matter of abbreviations, for 
instance, from the earliest times, some wrote <fe, y*, y*, 
wch, wth, y°, for and, the, that, which, with, you, in all 
cases ; others spelled the words in full, or used the 
abbreviations indiscriminately. Some seldom or never 
abbreviated ; others had a passion for abbreviating, 
and acquitted themselves in a most grotesque manner. 
The y" and y' grew out of a peculiar way of forming 
the letters in the and that, as any one may see by ex- 
amining old records. Some letters were used inter- 
changeably, as i and j, u and v. In short, orthography 
does not seem to have been deemed a matter of much 
importance. The writers, in many cases, appear to 
have simply endeavored to express themselves in the 
shortest intelligible way, regardless of uniformity or 
appearance. As remarked on page 14, the name of 
Lynn, in the act giving that name, is spelled Lin ; the 
n has a line over it, denoting that it should be doubled. 
Mr. Turner, it may be remarked, seems to have been 



OBADIAH TUENER. 55 

in some particulars quite fond of a short hand way of 
writing. 

And here it may be proper to say a word regarding 
dates. Some historians have not been sufficiently careful 
in stating them, where they were material. The Julian 
mode of computation having been in use in the old 
colony times, mistakes are liable to occur. The Gre- 
gorian or present style was not adopted either in Old 
or New England till 1752. The old style made the 
civil and legal year commence with Lady Day or An- 
nunciation, the 25th of March. The new style changed 
it to the 1st of January. The correction of the calen- 
dar was made in 1582, by Gregory XIII., and the new 
style was forthwith adopted in all Catholic countries. 
We do not imagine that protestant England was appre- 
hensive that any popish poison lurked in the new 
style, but yet she was singularly tardy in adopting it. 
However, the change was long expected here and in 
England, and hence the double dating so frequently 
found in old records and on old grave stones : thus, 
Feb. 12, li, or 1682-3; the month being in 1682 ac- 
cording to the old style and in 1683 according to the 
new. The same act of the British Parliament (1751) 
which provided that the next ensuing first day of Jan- 
uary should be the first day of the new year, also pro- 
vided that the second day of September should be 
called the fourteenth; thus dropping eleven days. 
Every fourth year was also ordained to be a leap year, 
with certain modifications that cannot much affect the 
reckoning of people for a thousand years to come. 
The causes which existed for the change of style are 
of course familiar to the reader. In the earliest times 
of New England, too, the months were frequently indi- 
cated by numbers instead of names, much in the style 



56 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

of the Quakers of the present day, as 3d month (May); 
12th month (February), &c. 

Mr. Turner was possessed of a considerable estate, 
and carried on farming to some extent. He married a 
lady from Salem, and reared a family of children. But 
it is likely that his sons had a propensity to rove, or 
to live bachelor lives, for it does not appear that at 
any time his was a prevailing name among us. He 
must have been quite popular with the people, for he 
was perpetually in the discharge of some responsible 
duty. Though a man of piety, we should not con- 
ceive him to have been one of the strict religionists of 
the time. In short, as far as we can gather, he pos- 
sessed a most genial mind, and was inclined to the in- 
dulgence of pleasantry and all innocent amusements ; 
in these and some other respects resembling another 
great philosopher, born just one century after his 
nativity. 

But it would be quite impossible to enter much at 
large into a history of the life of Mr. Turner, even 
though the materials were all at hand. And, more- 
over, it is apprehended that a few pages from his jour- 
nal would be more acceptable than anything else that 
could be offered. 

Allusion has been made to Mr. Turner's belief, in 
common with the world in general at that time, regard- 
ing the occasional corporeal appearance of his satanic 
majesty. Now some may smile and greatly wonder at 
this. But yet, has this and the concomitant belief in 
ghosts ever been shown to be false? The question has 
been discussed for ages, and a vast majority of the 
christian world, to say nothing of the heathen, are 
unquestionably, at this moment, to be ranked as believ- 
ers. It is yet an unsettled question ; and no one has 



OBADIAH TUENER. 57 

a right to treat it as settled. Neither you nor I, read- 
er, have perhaps had proof satisfactory to our minds. 
But it does not follow that others have not. And it is 
a little presuming in us to laugh at such men as Sir 
Matthew Hale, Addison, Blackstone and Dr. Johnson, 
because they believed that such appearances might 
take place ; or at the many great lig-hts in divinity who 
declare that the Bible fully sustains the affirmative. 
All know the difficulty of proving a negative. But in 
this case innumerable witnesses appear in the affirma- 
tive, whose testimony has not been invalidated. Some 
of the instances are certainly strange enough, and to a 
reasonable mind seem somewhat shaky ; as, for ex- 
ample, that in the experience of Martin Luther, the 
redoubtable reformer, who, while denouncing such 
vengeance against all liars, declared that the Devil 
came into his sleeping room at night and wantonly 
disturbed his rest by cracking hazel nuts upon the bed 
post. Luther conceived himself to be such a shining 
light in the world of truth and piety that the evil one 
took especial- pains to extinguish him. The puritan 
fathers thought very much the same of themselves. 
And many individuals at this period fancy themselves 
of much more importance in this world and considera- 
tion in the other than they really are. And it is gen- 
erally about as easy to be at peace with an east wind 
as with such people, however willing one may be to 
accede to all moderate assumptions. 

We will now, for the benefit and gratification of the 
reader, present a few extracts from the aforenamed 
journal of Mr. Turner: 

1630. lulie y« 28 : On y« last 4th day some of vs 
did goe afar into y® wildernesse towards y'' river on y*' 
west, and thence about by y« hills on y^ north. And 



58 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

this wee did y* wee might discover what y" land and 
productions of this our heritage be. Wee found val- 
lies of mightie trees of such kinds as Old England is a 
stranger to. And wee made sore our feet by y® cHm- 
ing of hills among rocks and thornie brambles and 
vines. Great store of wild berries were on everie hand. 
Among them were manie black shining berries as big 
as y® pills of apothecaries ; and these berries be of 
sweete, milde taste and grow in clusters on low bushes 
with light green leaues wthovt thornes. Wee did 
pluck some and found them savory to eat in fire cakes; 
and did think them apt for puddings. Then there were 
found other large black shining berries growing on 
creeping vines, of most luscious taste. And wee did 
eat till our mouths were black as y^ chimney back. 

As wee journied wee did sometimes see skulking 
abovt among y® trees, what wee conjectured to be In- 
djans or Devils ; jt being patent y' y® great foe of all 
God his people hath alreadie begun to harrass and 
plague this godlie companie. But wee doe some ex- 
pect to have over from Nehumkeage a big ordnance 
whereby to defend ourselves from y^ one, and some 
godlie bookes and catechisms to fortifie against y* 
other. And God being on our side wee feare not 
what Indjans or Devils can doe. 

In a vallie M'^ee found a small store of corn growing 
wch we did conjecture belonged to y® sauvages. And 
a little way off we did see some fruites growing Avhere- 
of wee knew not y*^ name or vse but did surmise y' 
they were all for food. But wee saw none watching 
thereabouts and no habitations. 

Of wilde animals wee spied but few. But wee 
heard terrible roareings as if there were bears or 
unicornes aAvay off in y* wilderness ; or may be they 
were wild asses or roaring Devils seeking to devour 
God his people. 

Wee did see some reptiles and serpents. And two 
y' we saw had rattils in their tailes, wherewith they 
made a strange whirring noise mch like y® noise of y® 
rattils of y® night watch in London only not so mightie 
a rattil. 



OBADIAH TURNER. 59 

Of birdes wee saw great store. Some eagles and 
hawkes and manie of wch wee knew not y" names. But 
wee are of a truth in a paradise of those moving things 
y' be good for foode. In y^ woodes, in y*^ pondes and 
on y'' sea shore, wee have multitudes of fowle, fish and 
game, most savory to y® appetite and healthy for y^ 
stomach. Y® Israelites fared less daintilie than wee ; 
wherefor praised bee God. 

It was somewhat within y® night when we came in 
sight of home. In coming over y*^ hillock nigh y^ 
doore of our habitation I descried a daintie white rab- 
bit, as jt seemed, wch I deemed would make a savory 
dish for breakfast on y® morrow. Giving chase, I was 
soone almost vpon him, when lo, he whisked vp a 
bushy tail over his hinder parts, and then threw jt to- 
wards me wth a mightie rush ; and jt shed upon me a 
liquor of such stinke y'^ nothing but y® opening of y® 
bottomless pit can equal. My eyes were blinded and 
my breath seemed stopped foreuer. When I recovered, 
y® smell remained vpon me, insomuch y' they would 
fain drive me from y® house, saying y*^ they could not 
abide wthin while I remained. And I still carry jt 
about wth me, in a yet terrible degree. I am per- 
suaded y* this is another device of Satan ; y* four 
footed beast being an impe let to do y^ Devil his bap- 
tism by sprinkling. 

1631. Ap'"l y® 2: Last third day sucb of vs as 
coulde, turned out to help goodman lohnstone to be- 
gin y^ building of his new house. Wee had goodo 
hope y* by this time our towne might become some 
famous and be faire in comlie habitations. But wee 
have been much put to jt to get materialls of y® right 
sorte wherewith to build. In Salem they now haue 
some bigge sawes, wherewith to make boardes. But 
few come to us, as the way hither is harde to "travell 
by reason of y® stumpes and rockes y* be in it. And 
likewise y® people there mch want their own hordes. 
So wee must do as wee best can wth our axes and 
adzes and smaller sawes, and what few hordes wee 
can from time to time make out to haul hither. Wee 



60 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

haue stones in plentie, but no mortar wherein to lay 
them. And wee haue aboundance of clay y' might bee 
used in y^ making of brickes, but none of us haue y® 
skill to rightlie molde and sett vp y^ killen; and if wee 
had, y^ mortar would bee wanting. 

1632. Ap'^1 y® 28 : "Wee had great discourse in gene- 
rail meeting, on 6th day about y** planting of trees. 
Some few payr and appill trees haue already been sett 
oute. It is undenyable y' y" making of cyder is goode 
to keepe y'' peeple from getting drounke on stronge 
liqvors and fire waters. Wee can now procure, at 
small charge, from other plantations sch trees as in a 
few yeares will supply our wantes. And it seemeth 
high time y' orchards" should be set and growing vp 
even as our children be growing vp. God hath done 
mch in bringing us to this goodlie land, and we should 
do something for them y* will come after us here. Itt 
being y® dutie of each generation to keep y'' tyde of 
blessings rolling on to benefit y^ next. Wee haue 
some wilde fruites in y® wood^s it is true, but not 
manie and they not well liking. 

lan'^y y® 12 : Y" winter still continueth mightie 
colde, insomuch y* y" sea be froze far into y'' ofBng. 
Wee can goe to Nahauntus on y^ ice. Our houses be 
halfe buried in snow. And we have to strapp boardes 
to our feete whereby wee may walke on y^ snow, wch 
wee call snow shoes. Y^ women goe oute but little, 
being forced to follow y* Bible commandment to bee 
stayers at home ; save y* they go out to meeting. 
But praised be God, wee haue plentie of fire woode 
all arounde, so wee can keepe warme when wthin 
doores. But y® brute beastes suffer as well as wee 
from y^ colde, for they bee mch put to jt to get foode. 
Y"^ fainishing wolves liowle piteouslie about our habi- 
tations in y" nighte ; and jt would fare harde, I think, 
wth one who should fall among them. 

1633. Nov^ y^ 1 : Y« Gen^ Courte did last month 
make order to regulate y* wages of divers kinds of 



OBADIAH TURNER. 61 

workemen and labourers. Formasterjoyners, masons, 
sawers, carpenters, and them of other hke trades, and 
mowers, it is ordained y* not aboue 2 shillings a day, 
they findeing theire owne victnalls, shall bee paid; 
and if they haue victualls founde, then not aboue 14 
pence a day. And y"^ penaltie for takeing or giueing 
above y*, is five shilhngs. Workemen y* bee not mas- 
ters, to have such pay as two discreet people of y® 
labourer his own choosing, together wth y® constable, 
shall say. And itt is further ordered y* they shall 
worke y*^ whole day, saveing onlie such time as may be 
needfull wherein to take their dyet and reste. But, 
methinks, all such things should be left for men to 
agree vppon betwixt themselves. Some bee worth 
much more than others, by reason of their judgment, 
prudence and industrie. 

Y^ Courte too must needes keep makeing lawes to 
regulate y^ price of corne and other produce raised. 
Then there being a great cropp or a poore cfopp, they 
must presentlie undo what they haue done. Better 
lett y* people bee a law to themselves in such things. 
My neighboure Edward Tomlins hath built a famous 
mill vppon y*^ fresh brooke y* runneth from y® greate 
ponde, nigh where y® same floweth into y*' river Sau- 
gus. He hath thereby done a noble thing to supplie 
our needes, there being but one other mill in y^ whole 
collonie and y* not able to do y® halfe y* is to bee done. 
But M"^ Tomlins is now somewhat exercised by y*" doe- 
ings of y^ Courte, and saith y* y® olde mortars where- 
in wee have bin forced to crack our corne had better 
not bee given to y^ Indjans nor made into fire woode 
as yet, for y'= foolish Courte may make such hard lawes 
vppon hjs mill, y* hee may bee forced to give vpp y® 
same. 

1634. May y^ 5 : This day have I helped my neigh- 
boure Masters in planting flaxe. Y® garments brought 
wth vs soone beginning to weare oute, wee caste aboute 
to finde y* wherewith to renew our clothing. And wee 
did try what might be done wth flaxe, wch wee are 
now shure groweth well here. With this we are well 



62 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

pleased and hope soone to be prouided wth plentie of 
stronge and comelie cloth ; for there be them among 
vs who haue skill in curing y'' materiall and preparing 
jt for y° spinning wheel and weaving frame. And our 
women can do y^ spinning and weaving. And wee 
doe hope soone to haue plentie of sheepe too, for wool 
as well as for meate. 

At this time there is not mch braverie in dress 
among vs, save that y® new comers from y^ old coun- 
trie do sometimes proudlie appear. 

Wee be yett a small place, and this is, as jt were, 
y® beginning of things ; but wee haue them among vs 
who be able to turne hand to almost everie thing 
necessary to be done for our comforte, and to make 
vs lustie growers ; so wee do hope soone to haue with- 
in ourselves all y' Qan be found in any of these our 
loyal plantations. And praised be God. 

lulie y^ 10 : Tester even I did have much pleasant 
discourse wth William Woode, concearneing this our 
Thirde Bay Plantation, while sitting on y® oak logg by 
my back doore ; for he hath given oute y* he shall 
presentlio depart for Old England, there to sojourn a 
briefe space. He hath bin here from y^ beginning of 
y® settlement, and hath Avrit enow to make a laire 
booke, aboute affaires vvthin y^ pattent. And I did 
mch urge him to printe y® booke while in England. 
He hath trauelled mch amongst y® settlements and by 
chearfull wordes and other wise helpes stopped manie 
y* would haue gon from vs, some to Virginia, some to 
Plymouth and some elsewhere. And y® book, mch of 
wch he hath read to me, speaking to our praise and to 
y® praise of y® land, I doubt not, being printed at home, 
will doe greatlie for vs, as there be manie who want 
but to be shure of our being well planted firste and 
they will send over mch to our comforte and helpe. 
But some things he hath putt down y'' methinks will 
not looke well in printe and I w^ould faine haue had 
him drop them ; as hjs discourse about lions at Cape 
Anne. Quoth I, I doe not beleave y' anie such beaste 
ever was founde there. He, being a little heady, did 



OBADIAH TUENER. 63 

warmlie replie, y* then they were Devills, for nothing 
but one or y'^ other could make such terrible roareings 
as have been hearde thereaboute. And soe, said he, 
I will have jt one or y® other. Well, well, quoth I, 
Master Woode, if so you will, jt must be, tho I would 
faine haue all discourse about revenous beastes and 
Devills left out. If jt be thot at home y* our lande 
doth abounde in such, but few will be founde readie to 
come hither. Lions they cannot be for y*^ bookes of 
trauell have jt y' such beastes live onlie in burning 
desert lands. Devills they may be, for such be found 
everiewhere. And as manie would rather face Devills 
than lions, jt were better to call them Devills if one 
or y^ other it must be. And blessed be God wee 
have y® holie Bible for protection against them. 

1685. Ap^'l y« 20: There hath bin for some days 
an uproare about y" destruction of y^ salt workes. 
Thomas Dexter and some others deeming y* salt might 
bee made to advantage here, not onlie to meet our 
own needs, but also of a surplus to supply others at 
a proffit to ourselves and cheape to them, went about 
setting up neare y® foote of y® hill y' overlookes y® 
beach a kettle or two and y" needed pans. Y^ work 
went bravelie on. But on six day morning jt Avas 
found y* during y® night some Indjans, as they say, 
came down and pitched y^ kettles into y'' sea and de- 
stroyed y*^ pans. But I am persuaded y* not Indjans 
but Devils did y® dirty worke, and y* jt is onlie an- 
other attempt of Satan to drive God his people hence. 
But wee will not goe, salt or no salt. I am y® more 
moved vnto thjs belief, because Indjans be not stronga 
of limbe, and a verie Samson might haue found y'' mis- 
chief harde worke. Manie fish being now taken salt is 
mch needed in y^ curing thereof And wee hope to 
see other pans and kettles set vp. In Plymouth colo- 
nic we bee told salt is mch wanting. And y^ workes 
at Cape Anne have been burnt vp. 

Septm"" y" 10 : Y*^ traine bande exercised to day on 
y® common fielde. Wee have good store of firelocks, 



64 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

and ammunition in aboundance. And wee deem our- 
selves able wth God his helpe to beate back a potent 
adversarie. Sometimes y® sauvages do threaten to fall 
vppon vs in greate numbers and destroy vs. But wee 
haue stout heartes, and do not feare but wee can helpe 
ourselves. Nevertheless wee must be vigillant and 
reddy. "Wee haue a blocke house beside y^ great 
ponde well wee may fortifye and make a saife place 
for y*' women and children to flee to when y^ foe com- 
eth ; and thinke wee can holde out against y® worst 
till we may get succor from abroad. 

M"" Batchellor, y^ minister, made a loude prayer at 
y® training and exhorted to braverie in defence of y® 
faire lande wherewith God hath made vs rich, saying 
y* such be our christian dutie ; and bringing from y^ 
holie scripture manie shining eusamj)les for our edifi- 
cation and encouragement. Some doe stumble at y® 
teachings of Mister Batchellor, saying he be an angell 
in hjs publick Avalke, but a devil in hjs own household. 
But who is there y' is not better in hjs sayings than in 
hjs works. 

Y^ musicke of y® fife and drum was mightie enspirit- 
ing. And y^ conke shell trumpet was meet to terrify 
y*' sauvage hearte. 

lohn Markes he got drunke at y® training and was 
pvt into y® stockes by y® big oake tree on y® common 
fielde. 

1636. Deem' y« 7 : Y« minister, Stephen Batchellor, 
left vs this j^eare and as I have hearde would goe to 
Ipswitch. He was y® firste minister here and did come 
among vs some above two yeare after wee did begin 
this oure plantation. Before his coming wee must 
needes doe our own preaching, exhorting and cate- 
chizing ; save that sometimes wee could procure help 
from abroade ; and some of vs used to go hence, when, 
y® weather allowed, to heare preaching elsewhere. 
Mister Batchellor had mch zeal in preaching and ex- 
horting ; and some stranger Indjans once passing by 
y® meeting place were mch terrified saying y* y^ white 
man his council was open and y' they hearde y"^ war 



OBADIAH TURNER. 65 

yells. He was three score and ten yeares olde, as I 
learn, when first he came. Hjs liair is tliin and gray, 
but hjs eyes be black and fierie. He hath an unseemlie 
wen on y® side of hjs nose wch presseth y' member in 
an unshapelie way. He needeth no staff to stay hjs 
steps but is quick a-foot and sure. In person he is 
tall and leane, and when he speaketh earnestlie doth 
mch exercise hjs bodie. Some scandal hath appeared 
against him, partlie on y** score of chastitie and partlie 
on y^ score of temper. He hath a strong will and 
liketh mch y* people doe his bidding ; or, as we say, 
he is heady. Hjs indignation is easilie roused, wch I 
doe not thinke seemlie in a minister. One happening 
to say to him a provoking worde at y'' general meeting,^ 
got a blow for his paines. But mch must be forgiven 
where mch hath been suffered. Y** godlie virtue of 
patience is not given to all in like measure. Some 
tempers grow harde and soure under y® same treatment 
where others keep tender and sweete. Few among vs 
haue been so badlie dealt wth in y® olde countrie as 
he. He began a minister in y® establishment and when 
he came out wth y^ puritans he had mch evil usage to 
endure from y® bishops. He was mch put upon both 
before he went to Holland and after his return to Lon- 
don. He hath mch learning in y® Hebrew and Greek, 
is an easie preacher for words and doth easilie work 
himself into a holie frenzie. He hath baptised y® firste 
children born among vs, one being his owne. 

1637. Aug' y^ 1 : Mch hath been said of wonderful 
things being from time to time founde in divers of 
these parts. My neyboure Hawkes he being wth oth- 
ers at worke in y® greate easte field, did digg fiom a 
hillock toward y® shore two skelettons of stoute men 
swaddled and encoffined in a manner never known to 
y^ Indjans, as they declare. And wth y® same they did 
finde divers implements of mettal, as a speare head of 
brasse, and some tubes seeminglie meant for y^ depos- 
ite of medicine y' they would alwaies haue wth them. 
It is judged y* these be y® remains, not of Indjans, y^ 
sauvages all declaring jt such they cannot be but of 

5 



66 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

some antient white peeple who must have come here 
for discoverie or by shipwrecke raanie yeares before 
y* plantation began. And y'' sauvages doe tell of theire 
old people hauing hearde from their fathers y* a won- 
derful canoe did in antient times appeare in y® offing; 
and being driven by greate stresse of weather, was 
forced wthin y*' greate Birds Egg Rocke, there goeing 
to pieces. Strange people wth white faces, they say 
were in y® shipp, and some reached y<^ shore alive. 
Presentlie they built a habitation on y® headlande, 
wherein they dwelt all y** summer, planting, fishing and 
hunting for their sustenance. But none ever hearde 
of what became of y'' strangers. 

Some declare y*^ they have scene at Nahanntus sun- 
dry wonderfull tracks in y^ solid rocke, as of some 
beaste like unto a great oxe. And I did goe thither 
wth some fishermen to looke for y'^ same, but we could 
finde nothing. Yet manie of faire credit doe stronglie 
affirme y* they have seen them. 

We doe have to be sparing of credit to y*' Indjan 
tales. Y*' sauvages mch like to amaze us and excite 
our feares. But manie besides Indjan^ doe love to 
tell of wonderfull things in this wonderfull place. And 
we be sometimes puzzled to know what to beleave. 

1638. lune y" 19 : Some going down to Nahauntiis 
on thirde day laste, did see two ravenous wolves ; be- 
ing y*" same, I think, y*^ tore in pieces goodman Lake- 
man hjs cow. But they could not shoot them, for 
they were too quick into y® woodes there. 

Vpon y*" beach y'' lieth most southward they picked 
vp manie great clams, from wch a savorie dish was 
made. They also cacht great store offish, wch, build- 
ing a fire by y*" rockes they cookt, and thereof with 
artichokes, and some bread, they made a right heartie 
meale. 

loel Tomlins, he getting a little drounke, must needs 
show off his agility by dancing and balancing himself 
in dangerous places. And soe jt fell out y* he fell 
over y*" rockes into y^ water, and they thot jt was all 
over with him. But one poising himself, was able to 



OBADIAH TURNER. 67 

catch him by y" hair of his heade as he floated atop of 
y^ wave, and so pulled him out againe. I doe thinke 
y* peeple who get drounke, and there bee too manie 
sch hereabouts, should not goe a fishing on y** rockes 
of Nahauntus. 

Upon y® beach they spied great multitudes of birdes 
of manie kindes, they being there to pick vp y® wormes 
and little fishes. They haue long bills wch they thrust 
into y*^ little holes in y® sand and pull up y*^ fat wormes 
wth great relish. They lay eggs in y® sand and y^ 
heate of y® sun being vpon them they speedilie hatch, 
and y^ little birdes betake themselves to feeding. Y® 
beach birds be verrie shy and quick a-wing, but our 
sportsmen, nevertheless, do bring down great plentie 
for our own vse, and if need be to supply other 
plantations. 

Itt hath bin writ in a booke y' oysters be unwhole- 
some to eate in everie moneth y' hath not an r in jt. 
And soe some of our people will have jt y* all shell 
fish, as lobsters, crabbs, clamms and y® like be not fit 
for foode betwixt Ap''l and Septm''. I know not that 
they bee poison att such times, but they bee not soe 
fat and luscious. 

1639. Marche y® 28 : There appeared in y® heavens 
a mightie sign wch may be y'' forerunner of some dire- 
full calamitie, as sickness, earthquake or other evill 
commotion. It seemed like unto a broade sheet of 
white light, in shape mch like y® tail of a fish, hanging 
in y® weste for some hours wthin y® night, from sun- 
setting. It did then fade away by "little and little and 
disappeare. Some felt greate feare and ran to y® min- 
ister. But he did quietly tell them to feare not, for 
God is wth vs. And he bid them remember y* y® Isra- 
eljtes did see cause to reioice in y® pillar of fire. And 
are not wee better than Israeljtes ? He did goe out 
and studie y° wonder, till he almost froze in y® colde 
blast from y® northweste-, and would have it y* it was 
noe signe of anie thing wonderfull to come, and no 
more awfull than y® winde, or y® sunshine, onlie not so 
common. 



68 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

1640. lulie y" 19 : An Inrljan boy did cunninglie 
creepe into my backe roome on yesternight and there- 
from steale my axe. Y** sauvages be mch given to 
thieving. Wee do haue to watch constantly when 
they be aboute, and complain to y® chiefs, wch doth 
little goode. And they sometimes boaste of what 
wonders they will do bie and bie when other nations 
come to helpe them. Hereaboutes there be but few 
sauvages, and they desperate poore, soe poore in sooth 
that they cannot afForde themselves naimes. And soe 
wee giue names vnto them, whereof they seeme mightie 
proude. One wee call Kettle lohn, another Lobster 
Bill, another Soreface Toe and soe on, they being fonde 
of having a meaning in theire names. They doe boaste 
of having been a greate nation in yeares gone by, but 
say that a dreadfull sicknesse carried manie off and soe 
mch weakened them as a nation. Y** landes they holde 
in common and doe not worke to any advantage, haue- 
ing no tooles to boaste of And as they hunt and fish 
mostly for theire foode they do not deeme theire lands 
of mch value, and seem glad to sell at a small price. 
A jewsharpe will do wonders wth them in a bargaine 
for lande. All y** old Sagamore his hill that overlookes 
y" beache and contains manie acres, was bought for a 
hatchett, a red jackett and two jewsharpes. And most 
of y® Indjan titles have been bought in, some for an 
iron kittle, some for a few iron nailes, and some for 
cast off clothes ; in every bargaine, a jewsharpe or two 
being added, they being fonde of y® musicke therof 
They have no great appetite in eating and live at a 
cheape rate. If they can get nothing else, a few clams 
pickt vp on y® sea shore, or a few eares of corn roasted 
in y^ ashes contents a whole familie for a meal. 

1641. Septem"" y'' 5 : Some being on y'' greate beache 
gathering of clams and seaweede wch had been cast 
thereon by y^ mightie storm did spy a most wonderful 
serpent a shorte way off from y^ shore. He was as 
big rounde in y^ thickest parte as a wine pipe ; and 
they do affirme that he was fifteen fathom or more in 
length. A most wonderful tale. But y" witnesses be 



OBADIAH TURNER. 69 

credible, and jt would be of no account to them to tell 
an untrue tale. Wee have likewise hearde y* at Cape 
Ann y^ people have seene a monster like vnto this, 
wch did there come out of y'' sea and coile himself 
vpon y'' land mch to y® terror of them y* did see him. 
And y"^ Indjans doe say y* they have manie times seene 
a wonderful big serpent lying on y® water, and reach- 
ing from Nahauntus to y® greate rocke wch we call 
Birdes Egg Rocke ; wch is much above belief for y* 
would be nigh vpon a mile. Y^ Indjans, as said, be given 
to declaring wonderful things, and jt pleaseth them to 
make y'' white peeple stare. But making all discounte, 
I doe beheve y* a wonderful monster in forme of a 
serpent doth visit these waters. And my praier to 
God is, y* jt be not y*^ olde serpent spoken of in holie 
scripture y* tempted our greate mother Eve and whose 
poison hath run downe even vnto vs, so greatlie to our 
discomforte and ruin. 

Dec'" y" 1 : Wee do bless God y* soe much good 
health hath bin our lot ; for our feares were greate y* 
coming from a land soe different in heate and colde, 
and being putt vpon new foode, sore plagues and 
paines might fall to our lott. True, wee have bin some 
exercised by sickness, and sometimes direfull pesti- 
lence hath ravaged vs. But for y*" most parte it hath 
bin contrariwise. This is a goodlie lande for herbes 
and rootes wherewith to make medicines. And y® 
Indjans have mch skill in preparing y^ same. There 
be manie doctors among them who gather greate bun- 
dles of y® herbes and rootes and store them vpp in 
their wigwams for winter use. And they mch love to 
show their skill vppon y® white people, being kind, and 
readie to goe miles for y'^ meanes, if they have them 
not at hand, wherewth to abate our pains. An olde 
Sagamoure did declare to me y* he never knew of a 
sore or paine or sicknesse for which he could not find 
a cure somewhere in y'' swamps, woodes, or pondes, 
vnless y'' same was y*^ worke of some witchcraft ; in 
wch case charmes must bee turned to. And charmes 
he had as well as herbes. 



70 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

1643. Ocf y^ 1 : This moniiiig y*' watch did begin 
y* blowing of their homes, wch is to be in this wise : 
One to starte from y*^ hill near y" roade to Nahauntus 
and walk westerlie ; y'^ other to starte from y^ forke of 
y^ roades at y^ west end of y^ common landes and walk 
easterlie. Y^ two to meet at y*' halfe way poste, both 
stoutlie blowing their horns all y'^ way. They to starte 
one hour before y'' rising of y" snn, and to walke some 
hastilie, and returne back without stopping. And what- 
soever houses they find without a light or some token 
of stirring therein they are to reporte. And at nine 
of y*^ clocke at night they are to doe likewise onlie re- 
porting all such houses as have lights or other tokens 
ofy" people not being a-bed. And this is y® regula- 
tions to make y® people industrious and keepers of 
good hours. 

1644. May y** 2 : loel Breede is chose hunter for y^ 
year. Hee is to destroy all four footed plagues, like- 
wise crows and venomous serpents y' he can, giving 
to y*^ dutie one half of everie day. And he is to haue 
his boarde for his paines, and to take it round among 
y*^ families. 

1645. Ap^'l y^ 7 : lohn Newhall was set in y® stockes 
by y^ meeting house, for stealing of pumpkins from y® 
widdow Humfrey. Some boyes did pelt him wth rot- 
ton egges. And an Indjan did throw vpon him some 
blacke stuff of mightie stinke. 

1646. lune y'' 3: Allen Bridges hath bin chose to 
wake y" sleepers in meeting. And being mch proude 
of his place, must needs have a fox taile fixed to y" end 
of a long staff wherewith he may brush y® faces of 
them y' will have napps in time of discourse ; likewise 
a sharpe thorne wherewith he may prick such as be 
most sounde. On y** laste Lord his day, as hee strutted 
about y^ meeting house, hee did spy M"" Tomlins sleep- 
ing with much comforto, hjs head kept steadie by being 
in y** corner, and hjs hand grasping y® rail. And soe 
spying, Allen did quicklie thrust his staff behind Dame 



OBADIAH TURNER. 71 

Ballard and give hjm a grievous prick vpon j* hand. 
Wherevppon M' Tomlins did spring vpp mch above y® 
floore and with terrible force strike wth hjs hand 
against y^ wall, and also, to y** great wonder of all, pro- 
phaiulie exclaim, in a loude voice, cuss y'^ woodcbuck ; 
he dreaming, as it seemed, y* a woodchuck had seized 
and bit his hand. But on comeing to know wlij3re hee 
was and y^ great scandall hee had comitted, he seemed 
mch abashed, but did not speake. And I think hee 
will not soone againe go to sleepe in meeting. Y® 
women may sometimes sleepe and none know it, by 
reason of their enormous bonnets. M"" Whiting doth 
pleasantlie say y' from y** pulpitt hee doth seem to be 
preaching to stacks of straw wth men sitting here and 
there among them. 

1647. Aug' y"' 8: There hath suddenlie come among 
vs a companie of strange people, wch bee neither In- 
djan nor Christian. And wee know not what to liken 
them vnto. Some will liave it y* they bee Egyptjans 
or J^'psjes, wandering thieves, jugglers and beggars, 
so long a pest in y® old countries, and in England till 
Edward y® Fourth made hard lawes against them. 
But if they bee of that heathen people how came they 
hither and what doe the}' seeke in this wilderness 
where is little to steal and mch justice to give them 
stripes. If they bee Egyptjans jt is patent y* y^ devill 
hath sent them hither to do his bidding and harrass God 
his people. Where y*^ most godliness is to bee founds 
there y*" devil muketh his strongest effort. But how 
such people could get here none can tell. Being wth 
their olde captaine I did ask him by signs, for they 
speake in vnknown tongues, whither they came. 
Wherevppon he did point southward, not meaning to- 
wards Plymouth, but far bej'ond. And he would haue 
me understand y' they did not come over sea. Never 
hearing y* any such people were in y*' Dutch settle- 
ments or Virginia, I surmised y* hee did mean y' they 
came from y^ Spanish settlements, thousands of leagues 
awaie. 

This strange companie hath made their camp iu a 



72 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

valley a little within y" woodes. And there they live 
in no better plight than y^ Indjans ; eating all manner 
of unclean meats, as frogs and rats, and deeming dain- 
tie foode such cattle and pigges as have died of mur- 
rain, if they can begg them of us. They come often 
into y*" settlement, and sometimes travel, mostlie by 
night, to other townes. They doe use palmistry and 
other devilish arts and witchcrafts. And we are much 
exercised to watch against their pilferings. Neither 
doe wee let our children goe mch in their waie, for jt 
hatli been sayd y* these people sometimes steal little 
Iblk and rear them in all their heathen waies. And I 
doe surmise y* a maid wth them may be of this sort. 
Her years may be eighteen or thereaboute, and she 
hath such a faire complexion with blooming cheeks as 
are not like unto y® other maids with them. She doth 
not besmear her hair like y^ others, but jt falleth vpon 
her shoulders, clean and glossie. Her eyes may be 
likened unto pretions diamonds being so lustrous. 
And her teeth being without staining from drnggs are 
white as snow. She hath a merrie looke and gay laugh 
and is withal neate in her clothes and always cleane in 
face and hands. She sometimes cometh into y^ town 
wth y^ olde captaine, having her head decked wth flow- 
ers and is bewitching to y*^ younge men, stepping soe 
daintilie and looking soe comelie. But shee hath their 
evil waies, and will make delicate signs to some youth 
y* she would bestow favors vppon them. But praised 
bee God all here bee so brot vpp in his holie ordinan- 
ces y' y^ bodie being under subjection, temptation 
doth not overcome. 

They doe sometimes make merrie at their lodges, wth 
great outcries and laughter. And vppon y*^ holie Sab- 
bath they doe dance and riot. And they would fain 
entice our young men and maids to come and haue 
their fortunes told, bringing pay therefor in fish, In- 
djan loafs, artichokes and other meats, and in strong- 
drinks of which they bee mighty fond, and will spend' 
daies in drounkenness Avhen y" meanes bee at hand. 

Their men do sometimes goe from door to door 
about y® towne with tools where wth to mend pans and 



OBADIAH TURNER. 73 

kettles and doe y® worke of cobblers. But thanks bee 
to y® Lord, we have good shoemakers here enow for 
all our needes, and would heipe our owne. The wo- 
men make divers ointments and medicines for burns, 
cuts and other hurts, and gather herbs which they 
bring to our doors for sale. 

Wee little like to bane these pestigeous people 
among vs, and will presently drive them hence if they 
do not goe of themselves, for they bee all theiving, 
unchaste and disordalie uagabouds, wandering vpp and 
down and prowling about by night and daie. When 
nothing of greater value comes in their waie, little bits 
of iron, fish hooks and even broken pottery do not 
come amiss. And the Indjans much complain of the 
stealing of their jewsharpes. 

Hearing a great outcrie among my poultry y ester 
even, & hastening oute by y'' backe doore, I descried one 
leaping over y*^ stone wall, to gain y® bushes, Y® wall 
falling, he fell likewise, but not being hurte, he was 
presently againe on his feet; and I then comeing vpp 
to y® wall seized him by y*^ skirte of his outer garment ; 
but he being on y*^ other side, and seeing hjs advan- 
tage gave me a lustie pluck, bringing me sprawling 
across y" wall. Some stones being thereby knocked 
down, and falling against me did disable me from fur- 
ther pursuit. Going back to y*^ poultry house, I was 
much distresst to finde my proudest Chester cock wth 
his head twisted from his bodie, and sundry pullets in 
y® same plight. 

Coming down y® roade by y® rivver Saugust on y® 
last second daie, I did descry them all, men, women 
and children, in stark naked plight bathing together in 
ye rivver, shouting, throwing water vppon one another, 
and challenging to swimming races, and doing many 
like indecent feats. But I presentlie turned my eyes 
from beholding soe great a scandall, tho I could not 
stop my ears to their wild outcries and prophanitie as 
it seemed. Such things were never before heard of in 
these parts, no, not even among y® Indjans. But I 
haue heard tell of there being like shamefull doings 
among y® Spanish in Mexico and other places to y^ 
D 



74 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

southward, whence, some will have jt j^ these came. 
But we must presentlie put a stopp to these things or 
y** plagues will be vppon vs. 

Their Captain, as wee call him, is of manie year«. 
He is of noble presence, wth thin white hair and beard, 
and a scar vppon his forehead. He hath a voice loude 
and commanding: but his manners bee not discourte- 
ous. He seemeth to feel y® care of a father for hjs 
charge ; doth comfort them in sickness, plead for them 
in difficulties and fight for them in danger. And well 
may they love him and obey hjs commands. The}^ do 
all seem to wish no better life than their wandering one. 
And I am fain to believe y* ignorance is y*^ mother of 
mch of their evil doings. M"^ Whiting hath wrestled in 
praier for them and would give them mch good dis- 
course but for y^ difficulties of y*^ language. And he 
saith trulie y* y^ soule of one of these outcaste children 
is as pretious wth God as y* Christian his soule, for He 
is no respecter of persons. And doe wee not all know 
y* Christ his blood can wash y^ one soule white and 
clean as y" other. And praised be God his great name 
for this. But yet, take these vagrant people as they 
bee, in temporal wise, they be such companie as wee 
doe not crave to have among vs and Avill presentlie rid 
ourselves of them by y® best means in our power. So 
all declared, in general meeting. 

September j"" 3 : Praised be God y® vagrant Egyp- 
tjans or whatever they be, haue departed from among 
vs. In y® last seventh day night they marched awaie, 
taking y* holie time, methinks, for feare of pursuit and 
punishment for their evil deeds while sojourning here. 
But wee were mch too glad to be rid of them to par- 
ley or seek our own. Manie have lost by their thiev- 
ing waies ; one a hoe, another a hatchet another a cod 
line ; and few of vs doe not miss some moveable thing. 
Farmer Newhall his plow hath disappeared, tho what 
on earth such people could want of a plow wee doe not 
know. He would have followed and sought y® imple- 
ment, but wee did persuade him from jt lest they should 
return, and helped to make vpp for his loss, which is 



OBADIAH TURNER. 75 

indeed a sore one, for there bee not manie plows among 
vs, and he was alwaies ready to loan to a neighbor. 

1650. lulie y® 14 : Some youngsters being in y" 
woodes on y"" last Lord his day did wickedlie play at 
cardes on a flat rock. And while y*^ game was going 
on, they say there did appeare vpon y^ solid rock, in 
y® middest of them, a foote printe, plaine as a foote 
printe could be made vpon y*^ sand of y** beache ; 
whereupon they were greatlie terrified, as well they 
might be. Y® goode peeple say y* jt be y*^ devill his 
foote printe. But it seemeth strange y' y"^ devill should 
desire to drive them off from doing hjs own worke or 
to disturbe y" breakers of y*^ Lord his dale, or other 
euil doers. But by whomsoever y® miracle was 
wrought, methinks it was meant as a solemn warning 
to Sabbath breakers and card players. And my praier 
to God is y* jt may be rightlie heeded. 

1651. Aug* y'' 4 : Tester even wee did return, mch 
tired, from y® West Precinct. At y^ Iron Workes wee 
founde all y^ men wth smutty faces and bare armes 
working lustilie. 

Y" setting vp of y** forge here, wch was done some 
six years agoe, is a mightie helpe to vs y' want iron 
worke some times. They do make here all kindes of 
aifaires wanted by our farmers, such as chaines, plow 
irons, sythes, boltes and y^ hke. And their axes and 
trammels be strong and well shaped. There be no 
other iron workes hereabouts, and soe mch work com- 
eth in from abroad. Some of y'' workmen be exceed- 
ing skilfuU and y® fame of y" workes be verrie great. 
Y** Courte, I am told, think so well of hauing y® workes 
here among vs, y* they be readie to doe all things law- 
full for them to doe to encourage y® undertaking. 
Tho y** oare found hereabouts be not of y'^ first qualitie, 
they yet fiude it sufficient to pay for y® digging and 
smelting. 

Y*' workes be mostlie owned by certain rich men in 
Old England, and monie is not wanting for y® supply 
of all things necessarie. And jt be a great comfort 



76 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

to US in this new countrie, where mch labour and 
money is needed, to know y* soe manie men at home, 
yea and women too, of substance and high favour, do 
take a livelie interest in our goode, and be so reddie 
to lend a helping hand. But some of y® richest and 
wisest men here haue something to doe with these 
workes, wch showeth y' they think them of worth. 
God prosper them. 

Y*^ workemen be mostlie from Old England, and mch 
skilled in y^ work. Y*^ headmen be of substance and 
godlie lives. But some of y*^ workemen be young, and 
fond of frolicking, and sometimes doe frolicke to such 
purpose y' they get before y*^ magistrates. And jt be 
said, mch to their discredit y* one or two hath done 
naughtie workes with y** maidens living thereabouts. 

There hath been talk of some iron workes in y*" Ply- 
mouth colonic. But if any be there y*' fame thereof is 
not soe great as these. And ye people of that colonie 
do sometimes send hither for articles made. 

Y*" Iron Workes be in a delightfull place, beside y* 
river Saugust. Manie tall pines grow neare by ; also 
oakes and walnuts. And it is pleasante to see y® 
smoke of y** workes curling up among y® trees. 

Y° Indjans sometimes come about y*^ workes, and 
will haue sharpe arrow heads made. But y*^ Avorkmen 
haue been warned againste supplying them, for such 
weapons may if neede come be turned against them- 
selves. One should not make a gun wherewith hira- 
selfe is like to be shot. 

Y® overseer of y** workes did show vs greate cour- 
tesie. He would haue vs view y® premises, and heare 
y® storie of their greate doings. And he entertayned 
us wth a noble dinner ; giving vs fresh meat in plentie 
and fish. And to crown all wee had a most daintie 
pudding, wherein were cherries of most delightfull 
taste. And wee had fruite and savorie dishes of ber- 
ries, some black and some red, wth plentie of sweeten- 
ing spread vpon them. A good tankard of well kept 
cyder furnished drink for vs. He hath a wife of great 
comelinesse and pleasantric, haueing no soure lookes 
nor angry wordes. She hath two children verie faire 



OBADIAH TUENER. 77 

and smarte. And being of goode learningshe delight- 
etli to instruct and catechize y^ little folk of y® 
precinct. 

Y"^ minister, M"" Whiting, doth sometimes come hither 
to preach in y*^ big barne, and soe y* infirme and lazie 
y* cannot or will not go elsewhere haue preaching at 
hand. 

Y^ enterprise of y® Iron Workes we haue much at 
hearte. It hath our labors and our praiers and must 
needs prosper if God be wth vs in jt ; and methinks 
he is, for wee are hjs peeple and he seeth our need. 

Aug* y® 25 : Gooddie Baker was ducked in y^ 
great ponde by y'' east roade for being a common 
scolde and y® using of unchaste and prophane wordes. 
She Avas deckt in a petticoate of yellow cloth wth a 
high red cap on her head, and a crow feather stuck 
a-top thereof. And being strapped to y® stoole wth 
leathern strappes, she was let down under y*' water 
three times. She did sneeze and shake her head each 
time as she came vp, much as a dog doth when he hath 
been plunged into y® sea. Twas not till she had been 
brot vp y*^ laste time y' she sued for mercie or would 
sale one word as if sorrie. There was a multitude 
present. Some hissed and some taunted her about her 
evil sayings, but, as jt appeared, not greatlie to her 
discomforte. Y" duckinge, methinks, will do her good 
for she is thereby punished for her evil speech and 
washed withall, wch she seemed mch to neede. 

1652. Decern'" y® 12: In selling some corne this daye 
there Avas payed unto me a shillinge of y® new stampe 
wch y® minte at Boston, hath sent out. Y® Courte hath 
ordered y*^ making of these, likewise sixpences. But I 
question if y*" collonie hath a right to do sch a great 
thing, tho I be not one y* will refuse y® taking of them 
on account of y® unlawfull making of y® same. Our 
needes in y® matter of small silver pieces hath been 
verrie greate. We have, jt is true, a little Spanish 
money but not enow to supplie our needes ; and most 
of our trade hath been by barter. Y® superintendent 



78 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

of y" iron workes informed me y* y* die for y* pieces 
was made at hjs M'-orkes, and y' hjs wife did draw 3'^ 
famous design y*^ appears thereon. These be y® first 
pieces made in y" land. And we do hope y' y^ mint 
may be kept in motion. It will be a long time before 
our needes be supplied. And as we be a growing 
people, and our trade greatlie encreases, we shall never 
be overstocked for monie. 

1653. Ap'"l y"^ 14: Mch debate was held at y« last 
publick meeting concerning y® buryal place. I did make 
motion to haue a faire wall raised around y® same and 
some unseemlie heaps of stone and gatherings of thornie 
brambles removed. But most would haue jt y* we 
neede do nothing; y* y® cost would be great and no 
gaine come thereby to y® dead or living ; saying too 
y* when y*^ bodie is buried jt be dust given backe to 
duste ; and y® golden chain being broken at y'' grave, 
there should end all our care; and y* jt be but supersti- 
tion to make show and pomp aboute y^ dead as doe 
manie Churchmen and Catholics. Surelie we doe bless 
God y* there be a resurrection of our better part from 
y® foule clay. But still y" hearte will sometiiacs haue 
its way above reason, and love best to think of y** dear 
ones lying in pleasant places. I do hope y' if these 
things be not done by this generation, y*^ time will 
come when others will doe y® same ; for y® ground 
may be made verie faire wth y® ponde and manie noble 
trees. 

1654. lune y*^ 20: Mch grief hath fallen on M-" Whit- 
ing and his familie. Y® Indjan maid Ruth, whom they 
did so mch love, on y® last Lord his daie did run awaie 
and again join herself to her heathen people of y" wil- 
derness. It be now eight years or thereabout since 
y® godlie minister took her a gift from her Indjan 
mother to bring her vpp in y*" nuiture and admonition 
of y® Lord. And she hath been these manie years as 
one of hjs own children, eating of hjs own bread and 
drinking of his own cupp, receiving godlie instruction 
at meeting and under his roole and learning at hjs 



OBADIAH TUENER. 79 

schoole. And she did trulie seem like a fresh bloom- 
ing wilde flower, wch we so loved to liken her unto. 
And she had too a loving hearte as well as bright mind, 
cleaving wth mch tenderness vnto y" good man whom 
she did call father, weeping at his paines and rejoicing 
at his pleasures. But she hath gon. And tho she hath 
done a great seeming wrong, yet may it somewhat 
abate when well considered. It is hard to overcome 
our first love. Y*^ hearte will sometimes turn back 
while y^ eyes look forward. She hath gone to her for- 
est home, awaie from our christian habitations, their 
comforts and blessings, from our protection and godlie 
instructions. In y® wigwam, her learning will stand 
her in poore stead against cold and hunger, and she 
will tear vpp her braive red scarf to adoin her dark 
lover his speare. But sunshine hath once broken into 
her soule and blessed bee God, aU y'' mists of heathen- 
ism cannot smother jt out again. And I did say to 
Master Whiting, seeminglie mch to his comfort, y* she 
maie yet be a meanes of grace to manie a poore red 
man. God grant it — and hkewise mch happiness to 
her both here and hereafter. 

1655. Aug* y^ 7 : Some have bin mch exercised touch- 
ing y® heavenlie signs wch have of late appeared ; as a 
noble shipp wth sailes spread, lifted high in aire, saile- 
ing bravelie against y® wind, and so out beneath a 
beautjfiill rainbow ; y*' trees, yea and rocks of Nahaun- 
tus lifted high in air ; y" islands wch be half a score of 
miles in y*' offing seeminglie brot nigh to y® shore, in- 
somuch y* we could well descry cattill and sheep graz- 
ing thereon. Tho these be wonderfull things, yet they 
be so ravishing y* we may well say that they can not 
betoken evill to come, but contrarywise, good. And 
blessed be God they have turned to y^ good of some ; 
as Obed Oliver, his speech, wch had before bin mch 
distempered wth prophanitie, hath now become of bet- 
ter qualitie. And Gooddie Welch hath turned from 
her unchaste ways, and craved y® sacrament of M"" 
Whiting. We do well remember y® phantom shipp that 
sailed into y® harbour of New Haven half a score of 



80 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

ycfirs agone, and did weep over jt as bearing tidings 
of y" loss of Captaine Turner, wth y" other noble men. 
But that shadow fell to pieces as betokening a wreck ; 
not so y" appearance here. 

1G5(). Decern'" y^ 15 : Y° reverend teacher, M"" Cob- 
bett did leave vs this year haueing been with vs about 
a score of yeares. He hath greatlie helped M"" Whiting 
in hjs laboures and they lived together in y*^ most 
friendHe and christian way ; he doeing mch in cate- 
chizing and instructing y'' children. He hath good 
learning, having once been an Episcopal minister in 
Lincolnshire. And he hath mch witt and curious 
knowledg. He knowing mch of public aftaires, hath 
composed some poetry on matters of government, wch 
made some stir among y*" people, some scolding and 
some laughing. He is mch thot of abroad, we hear. 

In person, 'M'^ Cobbett is rather short and a little 
stoopeing. He hath thick lipps and eyes seeminglie 
full of mirth. He loveth mch to take long walks, in y^ 
woodes and on y^ beaches : and he goeth with one 
hand ahind hjs back and wth hjs ej^es toward y* ground, 
as if in great studio, and I think he be in stiid»ie, as one 
being neare him may see him sometimes smile, some- 
times frowne and sometimes talk vnto himself. Hjs 
haire is dark and verrie thin and he sometimes weareth 
a little black capp, at y® meetiuges mch to y^ amuse- 
ment of y® young folk. 

But in walk and conversation Master Cobbett is a 
right godlie man ; and in temper loving peace and 
goode will, wch maketh amends for all other things 
that be wanting. He is a good friend to all y*" children 
and they love mch to meet him. He laboreth to make 
them good and apt to learn. And he saith y* by soe 
doing he is preparing y* foundation stones for a great 
nation. He hath been installed at y"" church in Ips- 
witch, I hear. 

1657. March y* 27: This day hath been y^ funerall 
of Goodman Burrill. "We had plentie of wine and 
cyder and stronge liquors, and sugar wherewith to 



OBADIAH TURNER. 81 

sweeten y^ same. Several did drinke more tlian was 
meete and bring great scandal vpon y® occasion. Wid- 
dow Hamsteade did do in y' way and make prophane 
and indecent speeches, much to y"' mortification of y*^ 
friends. Uerilie I think it not meet to offer strong 
drinks at such times. A little wine for y® women and 
near friends, and cyder for y'^ men is enow. But y® 
giving of gloves and rings if they can be afforded can 
be in no wise harmeful. A famous pair of gloves did 
fall to me on this occasion. It was dark night before 
y® bodie was in y*' grave, and a cold rain set in wch 
wth y^ snow upon y^ ground hath made y® trauelling 
verrie plashie and bad, and y^ rain continueth to this 
hour. 

I think y* y^ Bible should be read and praiers always 
made at y^ burial of y® dead. No matter if they of y^ 
Church of England do y" same. Must we dispise a 
good thing because they do approve jt? Y^ custom, 
I am glad is growing among vs. Christian feeling and 
good sense methinks will finally master y® preiudices 
y* still linger among vs. And I dare prophesie y*^ y'^ 
time will come when none, even here in this puritan 
land, will be carried to y^ grave withoute praiers. 
And wth y® same faith I dare prophesie likewise y' y® 
time will come when strong drinks will not be had at 
funeralls, even among y® puritans. 

lune y® 8th : Lord protect us. My neighbour Pur- 
chiss hath run in to stir up hue and crie on a terrible 
deed of blood y* he saith they report hath iust been 
committed, by olde Eattlesnake, y'' Naticke Indjan, hee 
having killed Goodman Anderson, his daughter, and 
likewise her betrothed, who hath lately come hither, 
they being with y® party of young people in y® woodes 
to-day. I yet doubt y' so dreadful a thing hath been 
done, tho we do well know y' M"" Anderson hath wrath- 
full enemies amongst y® savages. 

1658. Decem"" y® 14: This year there hath been a 
great and terrible earthquake ; such a one as was never 
before known hereabouts. Y® houses shook and dishes 
D* 6 



82 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

did fell down from y® shelves. Some being out did 
feel }'*^ ground rock. Y® sea roared wth a dismal roare- 
ing, as if a mightie storme was coming on. And some 
being near y® shore said y'' tide was turned before y* 
time. Some chimnies were shook down, but not mch 
michief done of wch I have heard. In y® morning y^ 
air was so yellow, like vnto brasse, and tliicke, y' we 
did fear some great evil to come. But y^ most mightie 
worke done by y'^ earthquake, hereaboutes, was y^ 
splitting of a great rock in y'' woods. It hath by some 
been called y'' Dungeon Rocke, because there appeared 
to be beneath y® same a dungeon cave. And jt hath 
been said y' Thomas Veal, a crooked, grizzley and ill 
looking shoemaker did live in y'' cave and do his shoe- 
making there. Some of vs did use to purchase his 
Works of him ; for tho not neat and comelie to looke 
vpon, yet they were strong and tight ; iust what we 
want where there be so many stumps and briars and 
so much mud and plash at times. On y® splitting of y® 
rock hy y^ earthquake as some think y^ old man was 
shut vp alive in y*-' cave ; and no great loss to y*^ world 
as they will have jt ; he not beeing tliot well of Some 
say he was once a pirate robber and did bury treasure 
hereabout. But it seemeth strange if jt be so, y' he 
should live so poorlie and work so hard. He did often 
come among vs to trade hjs shoes for provisions, and 
hath been known, lint not often, to hauo some small 
pieces of Spanish monie. It hath been further sayed 
y* he was one of a number of pirate robbers y* lived 
hidden in a glen by y^ river towardes y^ Iron Workes. 

1660. Octo^ y« 30: We hear y* M^ Burton hath been 
to y® Courte to complaino of Winnie lohnstone for y* 
keeping of Christmas wch jt is said is not lawful here. 
But God forbid y' it should be unlawful to keep y® 
holio birthdaj' of y^ Savioure of mankind. We did 
hope y* sch things might not be in this pleasant lande, 
where there bo manic who tho no churclnuen yet be 
willing to acknowledge sound doctrine, tho cliurchmen 
yea even popish catholicks doe y° same. And y*" min- 
ister, Mister Whiting, thinketh such things grievous, 



OBADIAH TURNER. 83 

he being of large minde and good heart, and yet far 
enow from y® establishment. But y* first minister, 
Master Batcheldor, was stout to beat down everie 
sproute of y® episcopacie in this puritan soil. 

1G63. Decem'"y®10: Mch distress hath been in y^ 
churches about y*' Quakers who be now rampant in y® 
land. Y® laws and y" magistrates be hard vpon them. 
Women as well as men have been stript and whipped 
at y" carts tailo for manie miles from town to town. 
And some have been brought to y*^ gallows. Y*^ more 
peeple be put vpon for their belief y® more do they set 
theire faces against changing their ways. And besides, 
ones religion is a matter betwixt him and his God. 
He should be let alone so long as he injureth not and 
interfereth not wth others ; wch keeping to themselves 
I am sorrie to say seemeth not always to haue been y^ 
case wth y*^ Quakers. Yet do I think y* our laws and 
our magistrates have been mch too hard vpon them, 
and vpon others that do not think alike wth vs. Sure- 
lie wee, of all people, ought to know how pretious lib- 
ertie of conscience is, for manie of vs here haue suffered 
enow for its sake. And I do say y* a church y*^ cannot 
stand of its own strength ought to fall. And 1 doe say 
further, y' when one strippeth naked and goeth about 
uttering lamentations and outcries against y® evil ways 
of y^ people, they themselves are in evil ways and 
should be dealt with by y'' civil power, be they Quak- 
ers or what nots. And so I end my says about y^ 
matter. 

1671. Marche y^ 30: Y® past year hath been one 
mightie in stormes. A great and terrible snow fell in 
y® middle of lanuarie, insomuch y' houses were buried 
to y® chimnies, Y*" poore cattle suffered grievously, 
being wthout food and drink for days, none being able 
to get unto them. One getting out of his chamber 
window thinking to go to a neighbor his house, did sink 
down in y® snow till nothing of him appeared, and he 
came nigh being stifled. But y® window being left 
open, his wife did hear a small cry, and hastylie throw- 



84 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

ing out y® table top, did got thereon and help him to 
recover himself. Presentlie after there came a day of 
melting, and then a mightie cold, wch froze y^ snow 
hard enow to bear y® stoutest man. And we did travel 
forth, sometimes greeting our neighbours at their cham- 
ber windows, and were able to grasp y'= tops of y" 
trees. 

Again, of a Lord his day in y® middle of Maie, there 
did come such a storm of thunder and lightning as 
was never before known among vs. It began iust 
within y® night wth a high wind and some hail, wch did 
break and beat down all ye grain and other things 
planted y* were grown above ground. Y® thunder 
and lightning were terrible to witness. Farmer Harte 
his barn was struck and set on fire, and his famous 
brindle cow killed. A great rock by y^ back road was 
likewise struck and y® noise of y^ explociou was awfull 
indeed. 

In lulie a direfull whirlwind did pass thro y" settle- 
ment. Its path was about two poles in width, and its 
violence exceeding great. Trees, fences, yea, houses, 
all y* stood in its way were cleared like chaff. Good- 
man Collins his house standing in its way was cut off 
and y® part carried manie poles and dashed into y* 
pond, a heap of ruins. Widow Bridges her house was 
taken up bodilie and turned over first vpon its top and 
then down y^ bank into y® creek, and twas a mercie y* 
she was not in jt, she having just before gone out to 
pick vp some chipps. My own well curb was taken vp 
by y® wind and carried thro y* air over y® tops of 
houses and trees, and dashed to pieces on y** ground a 
long walk away. Gooddy Billin being out wth her 
apron thrown over her head, y^ wind took both her 
apron and her capp of goat hair and lodged them in 
y® top of y® great beach tree near y^ minister his house. 
And after y" blow was over they in y^ house were some 
mirthful, saying y* y* wind was so strong as to blow y^ 
haire off lier heade. After y® terrible whirlwind was 
past, wch was not manie minutes, some did go out to 
see y® road y' it had cut and to wonder at y^ great de- 
struction. A number of beastes and birds, a few killed 



OBADIAH TUKNER. 85 

and others so lamed y* they could not get away were 
pic'kt up ; and some did hve daintilie for one day cer- 
taine. 

1679. lune y® 20 : It is now fiftie years since this 
now famous towne was first begun. Wee have grown 
from y® small beginning of about a score of poore pil- 
grims dropt as it were in y® sauvage wilderness, to be 
a people well to doe and manie in number. And all 
this by God his blessing for which his name be praised. 

Wee have good houses and gardens and large fields 
well cleared and sufficient for growing all wee need 
and more for exchange for such from abroad as we de- 
sire ; for it is always wth a people y* their cravings 
increase wth their means. Wee have horses and cattle 
and piggs and fowles in aboundance. And have we not 
enow wth all these. So let vs thank God for his un- 
deserved bountie and purge our hearts from all un- 
cleanness. 

Wee haue butchers to supply vs wth flesh meat and 
fishermen to supply vs wth fish both fresh and salted, 
likewise clams and other meat from y® sea. And we 
have smiths, carpenters, and brick layers ; shoemakers, 
weavers and manie other handicraftsmen to make and 
mend for our comfort. Who, then, are better provided 
than we. And for y® same, we doe againe and wth- 
out ceaseing thank God. But above all doe we bless 
his holie name for our gospell priviledges,for our aboun- 
dance of good preaching and diligent catechising; like- 
wise for the faire schooles wherein our children are 
taught. 

Wee prospered under Charles y® firste ; we prosper- 
ed under Cromwell and y® Commonwealth ; and wee 
yet prosper under Charles y*^ second. But wch was 
y® greatest prosperitie I do not rightlie know. Wee 
had most libertie under Cromwell, and were not soe 
often called to account for our doings ; being moreover 
allowed to doe most for ourselves by way of gouern- 
ment. And had y^ gouernment wch he established bin 
continued I doubt not y' we, when strong enough to 
protect ourselves would haue been made independent. 



86 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

But y^ monarchie being now againe established, and y* 
being y® most costlie kind of gouernment, I fear y* we 
shall be held whether we will or no, in hopes y* our 
trade and growing riches may turne out to be a help 
to y" crown. But liaue wee not, as they say, cut our 
own fodder. Haue we not cleared our own fields, 
caught our owne fish wth our owne bait, and fought 
our owne battles wth y*' Indjans as witness y^ great 
Pequot war fortie yeares agone and y** war wth King 
Philip of late. And are we not righthe some proud of 
our doings. But after all I doe think y' y^ destinie of 
a people is under God, wth themselves. Wth intelli- 
gence, energie, frugalitie and industrie they will pros- 
per, tho they be set downe in a barren land. And we 
have taken much paines to haue good schooles to make 
V8 intelligent ; to haue good exhortations to persever- 
ence, economic and activitie ; and good lawes to make 
vs industrious. Shall wee not then, continue to pros- 
per whatever they doe aboute vs over y*" water. If 
they do illy by vs while wee be weak, when wee get 
strong enough wee will surelie haue a reckoning wth 
them. So y^ wheels being now in motion on y* right 
roade let vs keep moveing. 

Dccem'" y^ 12: Yester even died y^ dear & reverend 
M"" Whiting. He hath laboured among vs this fortie 
yeare and vpwards, and was mch beloved both here 
and abroad. Hjs godlie temper was seen in y® sweet 
smile y* he alwaies wore. Hjs learning Avas great. In 
y® Hebrewe jt hath been said none on this side of y° 
water could come vp to him. He greatlie labored for 
y® children, and for manie yeares would haue as manie 
as he could come to hjs house on everie Lord his day 
after y® publique worship was over, and be catechized 
and instructed by him in Bible truths. And on week 
dales he also instructed y^ children, such as would, in 
Latin and other learning of y** schooles. He Avas not 
fond of disputations and wordie wranglings about doc- 
trine, but laid down hjs poynts plainlie and then firmlie 
defended them by y^ scriptures, not taking y® time, as 
y® manner of some is, to tell how others look vpon y* 



OBADIAH TURNER. 87 

same and then to tell how false was y® eye wtli wch 
fhey looked. He writ some things y' came out in 
print and all testified to their being sound in doctrine, 
liberal in sentiment, and plain and practicall. 

M'' Whiting was a good liver saying y' he did not 
find y* mortifying y® flesh meant pinching y® stomach. 
Hjs wife was a right comelie dame and belonged to a 
great familie, being Chief lustice Saint John his 
sister. She was a godlie woman and did mch to 
chear and help her husband. By her learning she was 
able to giue mch instruction to y® damsels of y*^ parish, 
and they did all love her as she were a tender mother. 
She died some above two yeares agone ; and he did 
greatlie mourn for her. 

M"" Whiting had a noble garden wherein were deli- 
cious fruits and manie good things for kitchen vse. 
He had a score of appill trees, from wch he made de- 
licious cyder. And jt hath been said y*^ an Indjan once 
coming to hjs house, and Mistress Whiting giving him 
a drink of y^ cyder, he did set down y^ pot and smak- 
ing hjs lipps say y* Adam and Eve were rightlie 
damned for eating y^ appills in y® garden of Eden ; 
they should haue made them into cyder. 

M"" Whiting was of a quiet temper and not mch giuen 
to extasies, but yet he would sometimes take a merrie 
part in pleasant companie. Once coming among a gay 
partie of young people he kist-all y® maides and said y* 
he felt all y'' better for jt. And I think they too felt 
all y'^ better for jt, for they did hug their armes around 
hjs neck and kiss him back again right warmlie ; they 
all soe loved him. 

For y^ few past yeares M'' Whiting hath been mch 
exercised by sickness. His paynes haue at times been 
soe greate y* he must needes cry out. But he bore all 
wth godlie patience and had kind wordes for them y' 
were by him. 

He was a man of middle size, dark skin and straight 
fine hair. Hjs hands were white and soft mch like 
some fine ladys. In preaching he did not mch exercise 
hjs bodie. But hjs clear voice and pleasant way were 
as potent to hold fast y^ thoughts of old and young. 



88 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

He had great care in his dress while preaching, saying 
y* hjs hearers should not be made to haue their eyes 
vpon an unseemlie object, lest y" good instruction might 
be swallowed vp in disgust. And for a reason like 
vnto y*^ he would also have hjs discourses in milde 
and winning wordes. In generall y® sermon would be 
an hour and a half long and y** long praier another half 
houre, wch wth y® reading of y^ scriptures and y^ sing- 
ing would make y" whole above two hours ; y^ hour 
glass upon y*^ pulpitt telling y*^ time. He did not love 
sleepers in meeting time and would sometimes stop 
short in y® exercises, calling pleasantlie to some one to 
come and wake y^ sleepers. And once of a warm sum- 
mer afternoon he did take hjs hat from y® peg in y® 
beam and put it on saying he would goe home and 
feed hjs fowles and come back again, when may be, 
their sleep would be ended, and they readie to hear y® 
remainder of his discourse. And at another time he 
did exclaim y' he wislied for y'' Church of England 
service, wch by making them rise and sit often, would 
keep them awake. And this wishing for y® Episcopal 
service one may be sure was competent to keep some 
eyes open for a month to come. 

Y^ towne was called Lin in compliment to M'' Whit- 
ing who came here from Lin in old Norfolke. Before, 
wee were called Saugust, wch wee did not mch like, 
some nicknameing vs Saw-dust. Most thot y^ name a 
good one, tho some would have it y' it was too short. 
But to such wee said, then spell it Lynne. Y*^ change 
was made fortie yeare and more agone : [1637] : and 
none now find fault. 

M"" Whiting his funerall js appointed to be on third 
day next. And y® whole towne is alreadie in an up- 
roar wth preparations. Wee must entertain manie 
from abroad and greate store of meate and drink will 
be needful. 

1680. Dec*" y^ 19 : When y« great and terrible comet 
of y" present yeare appeared wth jts fiery tayl reaching 
nigh half way acrost y* heavens and alJmost as bright 
as y® moone, wee did greatlie feare y* some dire calam- 



OBADIAH TUENER. 89 

itie was soon to break vpon vs. For manie days after 
it departed, a wonderfull fogg or smoke did fall vpon 
vs everie day. It had a strong smell of brimstone and 
was not Avet like other foggs ; and it seemed to come 
wth y" wind, blow wch way jt would. Wee did at first 
think jt to be y® smoke of great fires in y'' woods ; but 
jt could not be y' : nor could jt be a fogg from y* sea ; 
and we knew not what it was. Sometimes in y* 
middest of y® night jt made y® aire so light y* we could 
read thereby. But no great evill hath yet come vppon 
vs, save y'' storme about y" time of y® equinox. Our 
Plantation hath prospered wth great prosperitie. And 
God grant y* these wonders be not y® forerunners of 
calamities yet to come. Hjs name be praised. 

1681. Ocf^y^lT: Another parish meeting hath been 
held wherein y® village orators made mch discourse 
about y® new Meeting House to be built next year. 
Somewhat hath alreadie been done in y® way of getting 
out y® fraime. It will be a famous house and one of 
wch wee may be a little proud. Y® time hath been 
when our neighbours of y® other townes haue spoken 
scornfullie of our poore plaice of worshipp ; but everie 
tide will turne. M'" Shepard, y® new minister, had a 
hand in y® plan as I hear. Y" plan hath been vp in y® 
old meeting house porch for some Lord his days mch 
like a marriage notis. And everie one seeing jt hath 
some better notion of his owne for this or that part. 
And one might know y' sch would be y® case. I being 
on y® comitte did counsell y® others to go on & ask opin- 
ions of none save y® builders. To make publique re- 
queste for opinions, and then not follow what we get 
sows evill seeds among vs. But when one gets advice 
wthout asking, no blame is vpon him if he doe not fol- 
low it. Some declare y* y® top part will look like vnto 
a huge tunnell standing wth y® bottom vp. But then 
some be always thinking of tunnells or tankards or 
what runs thro them down their throates. Y® women 
seem well pleased to haue a new house. And y® young 
folk promise greate helps on their parte. 

Y® spot whereon y® building is to stand, being on y® 



90 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

open comon land is easie to be got to from all parts. 
True, there be but few habitations thereabout, and y* 
bleak winds of winter will blow harde vpon it. But a 
few old forest trees yet stand thereby and y^ green hil- 
locks are pleasant to stand vpon and look oven to y® 
water. On y° whole wee count jt a verie fair plaice. 
And my prophesie is y* new comers will soon set down 
there and build houses ; and before y^ new house 
grows old manie others will be there to keep it com- 
panie. 

Y" new minister, M"" Shepard, we find sound in doc- 
trine and strong in speech ; but wonderful grave and 
solemn, wch, after M"" Whiting, seemeth like clouds 
after sunshine. Wee doubt not hjs pietie ; but pietie 
recomended by gloom cometh wth but a poore recom- 
end. However, he is mch of a stranger wth vs as yet. 
He dresseth in black cloathes and weareth black gloves 
in y® pulpit, wch he must needes cut off at y^ finger 
ends, y'' wch is done to enable hjm to turne over y® 
book leaves. His age wee think about thirtie and 
three. He is middling tall in person and hath strong 
and well shaped limbs. He walketli mch, and with a 
brisque step; and seemeth fond of taking long solitary 
walkes on y" beaches and in y" woodes. He hath de- 
clared himself not over fond of musick and said y* if jt 
were done away wth in y® meetings more time would 
be left for y® preaching, wch setteth not well wth 
some ; for there be those who would even love to haue 
y® good old chaunts of y® church. And to me jt seem- 
eth y' preachers are apt to think more of their preach- 
ing than some others doe. Preaching and y" worshipp 
of God in psalms and hymns are both good. I dont say 
wch is most to be desired, but thinke part of both sets 
best. 

And now we are admonished to close the journal of 
the good old settler. His honesty of heart and quaint- 
ness of style must have possessed such a charm, that 
no reader, we are persuaded, can have passed over 
unheeded any passage. Many of the brighter and 



OBADIAH TURNER. 91 

darker phases of early colonial times have been given, 
as well as faithful glimpses of the every day life of a 
community of genuine old Yankee fathers. 

In the introductory observations we said something 
about the orthography of the journalist. Very little 
change has been made by us; no change excepting 
where it seemed necessary, to avoid perplexity to the 
reader. One of the most curious things in all the writ- 
ing and much of the printing of that period is the va- 
riety of ways in which the same word is often spelled. 
We are led to believe that there could have been no 
acknowledged standard. During the latter years em- 
braced in the journal, however, a considerable degree 
of uniformity had been attained in printing. But in 
writing, the free and independent use of the alphabet 
was still persisted in. 

There is an old printing office tradition, by the way, 
to the effect that in the early days of the art the means 
for spacing the lines were so imperfect that the com- 
positor was allowed to add or omit in any word such 
letters as might be convenient, provided the right 
sounds were expressed. And by tracing the progress 
of the art, it seems as if some such custom must have 
prevailed, and that it fell into disuse as the necessities 
for it were obviated. 

Having concluded our extracts, it may be proper to 
introduce a few remarks and details illustrative of cer- 
tain matters called to mind as we proceeded. 

Our journalist, under date of 1640, has something to 
say regarding the Indians, their habits and occupa- 
tions, their poverty and weakness. And his allusion 
to land tenures, leads us to think that as many read- 
ers may not have taken an opportunity to examine the 



92 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

interesting subject, a few plain observations on that 
and kindred matters may not be unacceptable. 

One of the most interesting and important topics in 
the whole range of American history is that relating to 
the dispossession of the Indian tribes and the occupa- 
tion of their lands by the European settlers. Our fore- 
fathers have been visited with unmeasured opprobrium 
for their course of alleged injustice and oppression. 
And a great deal of sympathy has been excited for the 
forlorn race who were deemed wrongful sufferers un- 
der inexcusable aggression. But by taking a more 
extended view, the case may appear different ; not, 
however, that there were not constantly transpiring 
individual cases of great enormity. 

Those who imagine that the colonists made an indis- 
criminate seizure of the Indian lands, in all cases where 
their power was sufficient, greatly err. And those 
who imagine that the royal charters afforded the gran- 
tees authority for so doing, also greatly err. These 
charters were not intended to convey a fee simple to 
the grantees, but only to secure to them pre-emption 
rights of purchase from the Indians. The charters 
simply intended this : We pledge the royal faith that 
no other Europeans shall intrude upon the lands 
granted, but you must settle your own terms with the 
Indians. And the same thing has run down through 
grants and treaties to the present day. It is only ac- 
cording to our conception of the value of lands, that 
the poor red men experienced such hard bargains. 
But it should be borne in mind that the construction 
of their social economy was essentially different from 
ours. They were not an agricultural nor a pastoral 
people. They did not, to any extent, till the soil', and 
had no conception of its value growing out of the 



OBADIAH TURNER. 93 

necessities and conveniences of civilized life. " Black 
Will's " sale of Nahantio Mr. Dexter for a suit of clothes 
and a jewsharp, though a good bargain for the pur- 
chaser, may also have been a good one for the vender. 
Nahant was worth little as a hunting ground, and noth- 
ing for cultivation. And there was not much activity 
in the market for wigwam lots. 

The Indians understood, as far as they could be 
made to understand a thing so entirely beyond their 
accustomed mode of viewing matters, what rights 
were acknowledged to be theirs. And though they 
would dispose of land which to a European Avould be 
of very great value under the operation of the arts 
and employments of civilized life, for a hatchet or a 
shirt, they might have received a fair equivalent. 
Farms and mill privileges were to them of no account. 

And then again so loose were they in the matter of 
titles that it was often difficult to determine what indi- 
viduals were proprietors. Rev. Mr Higginson, the 
first minister at Salem, in a letter dated in 1629, states 
these facts, which are well worthy of consideration : 
" The Indians are not able to make use of the one 
fourth part of the land ; neither have they any settled 
places, as towns, to dwell in, nor any grounds as they 
challenge for their own possession, but change their 
habitation from place to place." And this confirms cer- 
tain statements of Mr. Turner. 

Notwithstanding the many villainous frauds practised 
upon them by individual settlers it is yet undeniable 
that the colonial governments without perhaps an ex- 
ception, endeavored to enforce the strictest honesty 
of dealing in the purchase of Indian titles. But the 
cupidity that characterized many of the first settlers, 
found means to circumvent the wholesome laws. 



94 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

It has been said that New Jersey is the only state 
in the old Union in which every foot of land was ob- 
tained by honorable purchase. This may be so. The 
land of the puritan pilgrims, the territory of the peace- 
ful Penn, the rich domains of New York, Virginia and 
Carolina were all tainted by glaring examples of injus- 
tice. 

To the honor of the Dutch settlers, however, it may 
be remarked that they appear generally to have pur- 
sued an honest course, extinguishing the Indian titles 
by fair purchase. And the few Swedes and other col- 
onists from the north of Europe seem to have acted in 
like manner. The possession of power is apt to beget 
arrogance, which, in its turn, becomes the parent of 
much that is unrighteous ; and hence it would be un- 
safe to assume that had these been as powerful as the 
English, they would have been less rapacious. To 
judge of the Dutch by their conduct in the East Indies 
we certainly should not form a very favoiable opinion 
of them. 

It may be asked in regard to the royal charters 
themselves, What right had the European governments 
to assume the power of thus granting? The reply is, 
that the claim to American territory was founded on 
discovery — that is, the subject who discovered this or 
that portion of the continent, and planted his national 
flag upon it, claimed it, by that act, as rightfully be- 
longing to his sovereign, against all other established 
powers. This was sanctioned by the comity of nations. 
England, France, Holland and Spain, the leading powers 
of that period were governed by this doctrine. But 
as regarded the natives of the countries discovered, 
it was not denied, in theory at least, that the fee sim- 
ple was in them. In other words, the territory belonged 



OBADIAH TURNER. 95 

to the discoverers against all the world excepting 
the natives. Good faith was generally preserved among 
the nations on this point. The occasional outbreaks 
between the English and Dutch and in later years be- 
tween the English and French settlers, we find gener- 
ally arose from disputes about pi'iority of discovery or 
from difficulties agitating the parent countries. 

The considerations growing out of the course thus 
assumed by the civilized nations are of great import- 
ance and interest. The native tribes were unable forc- 
ibly to dislodge the settlers and by a kind of moral 
pressure seemed doomed rapidly to disappear before 
them. And many a pious mind has perceived, in the 
whole course of events, a special interposition, for the 
benefit of God's people, similar to instances recorded 
in the sacred volume. 

And, taking a broad view of the question, What 
amount of moral wrong do we find involved? Divest- 
ing th:^ sulject of all false drapeiy, what is the verdict 
of those elevated conceptions which can at one view 
embrace the welfare of the whole human family? Man 
is commanded to subdue the soil. The Indians would 
not fulfil this command. They would not till the soil. 
They would not subdue the wilderness. It was incon- 
sistent with the progress of our species as well as with 
the command of the Creator, that so immense and fair 
a portion of the earth should be suffered to remain a 
wilderness, yielding comparatively nothing for the sus- 
tenance of man. Inasmuch as the Indians would not 
labor upon the ground was it not fitting that those 
who would, should become its possessors? The whole 
earth was given as the vineyard in which the great 
family of man was to toil for sustenance, and no nation, 
no tribe, no individual has a right to hold any portion 



96 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

in an uncultivated state when what it would produce 
is required for the support of others. 

And does it not seem that the change which a couple 
of centuries has wrought in this fair portion of the 
heritage, is in accordance with the order of nature, the 
progress of our species ? 

What was the aspect of our country at the time of 
its discovery by Europeans ? What but that of a wil- 
derness, dark and wild, with a few thousands of the 
great family of man scattered sparsely over it ; and 
they, degraded and savage, warring upon each other 
and delighting in the grossest occupations of existence; 
possessing scarcely any knowledge of the useful arts 
or conception of the higher duties and enjoyments of 
life. Science had not shed its vivifying rays upon them, 
expanding their intellects and refining their tastes. 
Nor had a rational religion elevated their minds and 
purified their hearts. 

What now is the aspect of the land ? What but as 
fair as any on which the sun shines. Thirty millions 
of the human family are sustained in plenty and happi- 
ness within its borders. The wilderness has been sub- 
dued and the earth made to yield a mighty increase. 
And starving thousands of the old world have been 
grateful recipients of bounty bestowed from our sur- 
plus agricultural products. It was by the ordering of 
Divine Providence, and for the benefit of the human 
race that in this goodly portion of the great vineyard, 
the indolent and unprofitable should give place to more 
faithful laborers. 

Another thing should be borne in mind by those who 
entertain so much bitterness towards the settlers re- 
garding the extinguishment of Indian titles. The 
Indians themselves always admitted that the land was 



OBADIAH TURNER. 97 

not originally theirs, and that their forefathers took 
forcible possession, driving those whom they found 
here through a path of blood into the sea. They 
boasted of this fancied bravery of their ancestors in 
the face of the whites, menacingly assuring them that 
they would be similarly dealt with as soon as the red 
warriors could be assembled in sufBcient numbers. 
Thus exhibiting a title resting on a similar foundation 
to that of the New Zealand chief, who claimed certain 
lands because he had eaten the former owner. And 
we leave this point with the simple remark that if it 
can ever be justifiable to steal from a thief, it seems as 
if the early settlers might set up the plea. 

We remarked that under the Indian dispensation this 
now productive region supported but a small fragment 
of the human family. It is difficult to state with any 
degree of certainty, the amount of the Indian popula- 
tion. Their own assertions could not be depended on, 
if for no other reason, because of their ignorance of 
numbers. In their limited traffic but little knowledge 
of arithmetic was required. And it is a notable fact 
that the large body of them could not count over 
fifteen or twenty. Those who could go as far as two 
hundred were highly accomplished in the mysteries of 
mathematics. 

It may detract something from what has been lauded 
as indicative of their high poetical conceptions and 
striking metaphorical mode of expression, yet it is no 
more than just to say, that their comparing numbers 
to the stars of heaven, the leaves on the trees, the 
sands on the shore, and so forth, arose from sheer ina- 
bility to count. One whose arithmetic failed him at 
twenty would be very likely to designate three hundred 
as equal to the stars of heaven, or to make some other 
E 7 



98 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

equally poetic and just comparison, having no more 
conception of the numerical magnitude of three hun- 
dred than of three million. 

The Powhattan confederacy, which was one of the 
most powerful in the territory that now constitutes 
the United States, embraced thirty three tribes, and 
occupied a large portion of the immense Virginia terri- 
tory lying between the Blue Ridge and the sea. Yet 
the whole population seems not to have reached ten 
thousand. Other portions of the country appear to 
have been much less densely populated. And it is 
asserted in history that the renowned chief whose name 
the confederacy bore, sent messengers to England for 
the purpose of counting the people there ; which he of 
course would not have done had not the state of his 
own country induced him to believe the thing possible. 
Indeed, had not the population been few and weak, the 
settlers would have been exterminated, notwithstand- 
ing their big guns and catechisms, that great source 
of reliance of which the good Mr. Higginson was led 
to boast. 

In view of these remarks, the writer will not be 
deemed one given to indiscriminate laudation of the 
ancient occupants of this soil, a few specimens of 
whom we have yet lingering among us, but from whom 
we are cautioned to form no judgment, as they are 
degraded by contact with ourselves. 

The romantic efforts of some to present the Indians 
as the most magnanimous people the world has ever 
known, are unjust. It is perhaps well that our minds 
are so constituted as to revert with glowing interest 
to the scenes transacted in former times upon the soil 
we call our own. And it is natural that those scenes 
and the actors in them should be invested in a drapery 



OBADIAH TURNER. 99 

growing more brilliant and fanciful as time recedes. 
But yet, unless the historian constantly endeavors to 
present his subject in the attitude of nude truthfulness 
he betrays his trust. The Indians should not be de- 
nounced as the most miserable and depraved fragment 
of the human family that ever cumbered the earth. 
God never made a tribe of our species in which he 
did not implant conceptions of truth and duty, and in 
which there were not individuals whose conduct was 
guided by lofty principles. 

In reverting to the history of the red men we must 
not conclude that they all possessed that magnanimity 
of character of which we have some bright examples. 
That would be as unjust as it would be for those in 
ages to come, when our own nation has become ex- 
tinct, to conclude that we were all Washingtons and 
Franklins. Neither must we conclude that they were 
all treacherous and blood thirsty as we find so many 
fatal assurances was the case with far too many. They 
were human beings, with passions like our own, and 
with undisciplined intellects and undeveloped moral 
attributes were chiefly governed by the lower propen- 
sities of our common nature. But sometimes the 
bright rays of exalted virtue and intellectual vigor 
burst through every cloud, shining forth with un- 
quenchable lustre. As warm a heart has beat beneath 
the Indian blanket as beneath the vesture of purple 
and fine linen. As sweet a lullaby has been sung over 
the papoose as he was rolled in his bear skin, as was 
ever sung over the cradled offspring of our own 
fathers. 

But these virtues spring from the instincts of nature. 
And if their instincts taught them to love their friends 
they also taught them to hate their enemies. And 



100 NOTABLE PEOPLE, 

more appalling, bloody, and in every way fiendish' 
scenes were never enacted on earth than were some 
of those in which these children of nature displayed 
their fealty to the great master of evil. We speak of 
them as the children of nature, as if that were an argu- 
ment in favor of their virtue, not realizing that to 
many minds we thus furnish the strongest argument 
against them. Human nature is corrupt, and, as none 
will dispute, prone to evil as are the sparks to fly 
"upward. 

From the first moment that the whites set foot upon 
this soil the Indian nations began rapidly to decay. 
There is now but a small remnant left. And ere long 
they will have become entirely extinct. The fire of 
the wigwam will have gone out and the ploughshare 
will have broken up the graves of their fathers. 

It is sad to contemplate the utter destruction of a 
people. Reflections, however, press upon the mind, 
not unworthy of being entertained. A little more than 
two centuries ago this whole country was occupied by 
a people as different from ourselves as one nation can 
well be from another. But the red men have passed 
away. And so have the race who preceded them. 
And must not we, in the progress of coming centuries 
also give place to another people ? And of what gene- 
ration of our children will be the last, the forlorn wan- 
derers, Avho will in sadness turn from these shores be- 
holding the land in possession of strangers ? Vain- 
glorious people ! Why should we boast? 

So pass away, in mysterious procession, one nation 
and kindred after another. In the striking Avords of 
Ossian : " The chiefs of other times are departed. 

They have gone without their fame The people 

are like the waves of the ocean : like the leaves of 



OBADIAH TURNEB. 101 

wood J Morven, they pass away in the rustling blast, 
and other leaves lift their green heads on high." 

The reader may have been struck with what Mr. 
Turner says, under date of 1637, regarding certain 
wonderful discoveries; particularly the discovery of 
tracks imprinted in the rocks at Nahant. And there is 
a tradition connected with these tracks, that so happily 
illustrates several prominent characteristics of the 
times, that we feel constrained to introduce it here, 
fully confident that no intelligent reader can mistake 
our object, whatever views may be entertained as to 
the credibility of this or that part of the relation. Le- 
gends and traditions are sometimes very useful as 
illustrations, and may supply what would otherwise be 
wanting. When introduced in their proper character 
they cannot mislead, though historians do well to be 
wary of them. 

The lovely peninsula of Nahant was within the terri- 
torial limits of the Third Plantation. It has long been 
celebrated as a watering place. Anciently it was a 
famous place for shore fishing. Various kinds of the 
most delicious of the smaller specimens of the great 
finny tribe abounded in its waters, and those piscatory 
disciples who visited its bold clifis for purposes of 
sport or profit, met with a rich reward. Wild fowl, 
too, were taken in vast quantities, for a long series of 
years. And in the days of the first settlers four-footed 
game was plenty in the dense woods that overspread 
the uplands. 

No sooner was the peninsula traversed by the whites 
than it was discovered that Nature had laid it out as a 
tract of surpassing loveliness. And it has increased in 
the afiections of the refined and the lovers of nature, 



102 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

to this day. And now, every watering season, hosts 
of the fairest and bravest of tlie land assemble there, 
to enjoy the affinities of friendship and love, to breathe 
the free and uncontaminated air, to gaze upon the mag- 
nificent and beautiful in nature — and thus to renovate 
the flagging spirits and restore declining health. 

To follow the traditionary accounts, we should say 
that it was near the eastern point, on an extension of 
ledge that now projects somewhat into the sea, that 
the aforesaid tracks were to be seen. It is asserted 
that they were clearly defined, and resembled, in a 
remarkable degree, the impressions of cloven feet. 
There were perhaps twenty of them, the faintest being 
more perfect than are most of the specimens of foot- 
prints in rock preserved in geological cabinets. They 
were all of about the same size, and one might have 
imagined them to have been made by an enormous ox, 
to use Mr. Turner's comparison, had such an animal 
been wandering around there while the rocks were in 
an unhardened state. 

These appearances excited much alarm at one period, 
and were frequently visited by the curious, as is said. 
But at what period they were lost sight of, cannot now 
be determined. By the action of the waves they may 
have been gradually worn away, or the shore may have 
so changed as to leave them in deep water. Taking their 
existence for granted, we cannot wonder that in the 
old colony times they should have been the occasion 
of much perplexity and apprehension. It is said that 
various theories were proposed by the learned of the 
times regarding their origin, mostly having reference 
to the attempts of the evil one to plague the settlers. 

In 1641, as appears by an account given by Mr. Tur- 
ner, under that date, a wonderful serpent was declared 



OBADIAH TURNER. 103 

to have appeared in the vicinity. And certain Indian 
traditions regarding a marine monster are also alluded 
to. These, taken together, may account for the origin 
of the stories prevalent at this day about the venerable 
Sea-serpent, who is so accommodating as to make his 
appearance off Nahant, just at the time when attrac- 
tions for summer visitors are most needed. And it is 
extremely natural that these same accounts should 
have led our forefathers to settle down in the belief 
that the veritable old Serpent who beguiled our great 
mother, had, for some infernal purpose, best known to 
himself, thought proper to appear here in his most nat- 
ural guise, ready, of course, to assume any other that 
exigencies might require. And it is not to be wonder- 
ed at that they should have been very much distressed 
under this conclusion. And a pious old dame lately 
declared to us that she should not be surprised, if after 
all, it turned out that the Sea-serpent was the Devil, it 
being so undeniable that he is always around here, in 
some shape. The last mournful truth stopped our 
mouth. 

The first discovery of these extraordinary footprints, 
by the whites, from all that we can gather seems to 
have been in this wise : Abel Ballard, a half blacksmith, 
half fisherman and half sportsman, as well as half drunk- 
ard — if there is any half way in drunkenness — lazy, 
ignorant and reckless, took it into his head to visit Egg 
Rock, alone, one afternoon. In the boat with him he 
took his gun, fishing line, rum keg, and sundry other 
things necessary for a right jolly time. The same dif- 
ficulties that now attend a landing on that famous rock 
then existed. The surf ran high at the point of de- 
barkation, on the afternoon in question. Considering 
this, and the fact that the rock weed is so slippery that 



^^^ NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

even well-balanced steps are not always sure, it was 
very fortunate that he was able to reach safe footing 
with no further disaster than the loss of his pipe and 
the knocking out of one tooth by a slip, as he jumped 
from the boat. 

Abel was not long in catching a great many fish and 
finding a large number of birds' eggs. In a grove 
which then had possession of the soil near the summit, 
a short distance southward from where the light house 
now stands, he built a fire and cooked his fish and 
eggs, which, with the stores he had brought, furnished 
a very good meal. 

After the feast, Abel concluded to take a little rest 
before pushing off for home. Being undisturbed ho 
dozed away for an hour or two; when, suddenly wak- 
ing, he found that it was growing dark. Springing 
up, and rubbing his eyes for a clear view, he perceived 
that a very threatening cloud was moving rapidly up 
from the west. And he heard the thunder muttering 
away among the distant hills. No time was to be lost, 
for the storm would soon break in fury. Hastily gath- 
ering up his chattels and throwing them into the boat 
he pushed off. But before rowing half a dozen rods' 
he stooped down to take a drop of inspiration from his' 
keg, when lo, that dear companion was missing. In- 
stinctively, as it were, the prow of the boat Avhirled 
back toward the rock, and with all speed he landed 
and hastened to the scene of his banquetting. There 
he soon spied the blessed keg meekly reposing on a 
stump beside the rocky protuberance that had fur- 
nished him with the conveniences of a table. 

Seizing the keg, Abel ran back to the boat and 
pushed off again, just as an ominous clap of thunder 
shook the very foundations of the cliff. He instantly 



OBADIAH TURNER. 105 

perceived that it would be imprudent to attempt to 
gain the main land. And so, without wasting time to 
count chances, he at once directed his course towards 
Nahant, the nearest point of which was something 
within a mile. Lustily bending to his oars and re- 
ceiving the opportune aid of a benevolent wave, ho 
succeeded in beaching his boat and attaining the upland 
just before the fury of the storm broke upon him. 

About where the large Hotel once stood there was 
a thick wood, in which was a rough little shanty built 
by the proprietors of the land for the convenience of 
those who might be overtaken by storms or other 
perils while working there. Into this structure Abel 
ran, almost out of breath and threw himself down, faint- 
ing with fatigue and fright. Night drew on, and he 
was soon in a disturbed sleep. How long he remained 
so, he was never able to tell. But at, as he reckoned, 
about midnight, he was aroused by a terrific crash, 
occasioned as he afterwards ascertained by the lightning 
striking Pulpit Rock and demolishing a section of its 
base. Terrified beyond measure, he was just endeavor- 
ing to rise, when, by the almost continuous lightning 
there was revealed to him, stalking in at the door, a 
strange, hairy object of about the size of a stout man. 
Erect, and with a steady step he came and stood over 
the spot where Abel lay, now speechless with fear. 

Eyeing the prostrate settler for a moment, the mon- 
ster broke out into a broad laugh, opening the great 
mouth of his dog-like head and shooting out his huge 
•tongue in the strangest manner. Presently he began 
to exercise himself as if playing on a fiddle. And then 
he began to dance in the most fantastic style. Sud- 
denly stopping, in a commanding voice he bade Abel 
arise and dance too, declaring that he was fiddling for 
E^ 



106 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

him, and that it would be good for him to take a moriy 
round. 

But Abel did not come to time. He probably had 
too much discretion to trust to liis legs, or was too 
much frightened. So the graceful visitor danced 
around a while longer, his red tongue leering out at 
the corner of his mouth, at an enormous length, and a 
blue flame occasionally shooting from his nostrils, diver- 
sified, as he now and then sneezed, which he seemed 
to take a mischievous pleasure in doing, by a sort of 
miniature volcanic explosion. 

At length he stopped, and again standing over Abel, 
bade him arise and dance, calling him a jolly old topei-, 
and saying that he would have a jig with him. Pres- 
ently, however, assuming a serious air, he declared that 
he was as dry as a fish and must have some good drink; 
adding that if Abel did not tell him where his keg was, 
he would give him a kick that would send him back to 
Egg Rock, and thence, by a bounce, to the Swampscot 
shore. He raised his foot as if to bestow the compli- 
ment, whatever might be the reply. And it was then 
that Abel perceived that his tormentor had a huge 
cloven foot ; a discovery that did not add much to his 
comfort. 

In the hope, however, of terminating the unpleasant 
.conference, Abel's courage so far revived as to enable 
him to articulate, that the precious object of his inquiry 
was in the boat. At this, with a laugh that almost 
shook the door of the shanty from its leather hinges, 
the intruding monster frisked out, leaving a pow- 
erful brimstone smell. And Abel sank away, whether 
in sleep or some other condition he could not after- 
wards determine, but entirely oblivious of what next 
took place around him. 



OBADIAH TURNER. 107 

When Abel aroused and opened his eyes, a bright 
sun was just emerging from the ocean. His first object 
was to endeavor to bring his mind into working order 
by the restorative that he had not forgotten was left 
in the boat. Hastening to the cove, his mind still 
roiled and laboring, he with horror perceived that 
some one had taken his boat by main strength, carried 
it several rods, and deposited it on a sort of rocky 
shelf, entirely out of his reach. And that mischievous 
some one, he had not a doubt, was the Devil. 

The boat was bottom up and much damaged. And 
every thing that he had left on board was gone. Can 
there be any wonder at his astonishment and fear? 
With hair on end and stiffened jaws he stood gazing 
around. Then happening to look down he beheld near 
his feet, imprinted in the solid rock, divers marks of 
cloven feet. He had no doubt now, if he had before, 
of the character of his midnight visitor. No one but 
the Devil could leave such footprints. 

This discovery, instead of actually prostrating Abel, 
as it would have affected many others, seemed to impart 
to him additional powers of locomotion. And uttering 
one yell, that might have been heard at Deer Island, 
had there been any one there with ears, he started at 
the very top of his speed to the cartway that led 
through the woods to the beaches. Nor did he stop 
till he had run more than a mile, losing his hat and one 
shoe by the way. He now met a teamster going down 
to the shore for seaweed. But the man was disposed 
to give him a wide berth, he acted so wildly and ap- 
peared in such questionable guise. Abel was, however, 
presently recognised, and in as connected a manner as 
he could, undertook to relate what had happened. 

The teamster listened patiently to AbePs account. 



108 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

But the latter was very much surprised, when he had 
finished, to hear the cool remark, that though he had 
unquestionably seen a devil, yet it was a devil of his 
own make ; that the evil spirit was in his own brain 
and no where else ; and that he got there out of the 
rum keg. And the benevolent man was particular to 
inform Abel that more devils come from rum kegs than 
from brimstone beds ; at the same time expressing a 
hope that as the one in question had now sailed away 
in the old keg he would not get a new keg to breed 
more. He further admonished him that a man's head 
was too good a place to be occupied as a dancing room 
for such evil spirits ; and then, with the remark that 
all would go well, if he took heed to these warnings, 
without the least concern drove on. Abel thought him 
very cool ; but before he had a reply digested and 
ready for utterance, the team was on the other slope of 
the hill. 

The conviction remained immovable in Abel's mind, 
that the evil one had paid him a visit. And he con- 
ducted many a doubter to those remarkable footprints, 
and pointed to the rocky shelf whereon his boat was 
laid, in proof. And he succeeded in silencing the 
doubts of many a pious neighbor. 

If these wonderful impressions were ever there, they 
were probably made at the remote period in the world's 
history when other similar impressions were. And if 
still in existence, it is not improbable that at some 
future day they may come to light again. The place 
is not above half a mile from the summer residence of 
Professor Agassiz. So we may possibly, through his 
talismanic power, some time or other learn all about 
them ; unless, indeed, their distance is not sufficient to 
lend enchantment. 



J 



OBADIAH TURNER. 109 

Assuming that the footprints were there, Abel may, 
indeed, have been the first white man who saw them ; 
but they might have been there ages before. The 
waves, no doubt, battered his boat and lodged it on 
the rock where he found it. And, finally, the teamster 
was no doubt right in his location of the evil spirit. 
Delirium tremens often furnishes those optics keen that 
enable people to see what is not to be seen. 

Under date of 1657, Mr. Turner makes mention, in 
what seems like a hurried postscript, of a harrowing 
tragedy just then reported to have taken place. And 
we presume that it was from the tragic fact, or from 
the report — and we cannot tell from any thing further 
in the journal whether or not it turned out to be a 
mere report — that the somewhat embellished narra- 
tive that has appeared under the title of " Stony Brook" 
took its outline. The incidents are of a peculiarly 
touching character, and, unfortunately, too faithful 
illustrations of many occurrences in those days. By 
the tradition, as it has come down the course of time, 
we learn that Mr. Anderson resided on what is now 
Boston street, and was the father of an extremely 
beautiful daughter, who was an only child. They had 
not been long in America when the alleged flital occur- 
rence took place. And before leaving England, the 
young lady had become the affianced of a youthful 
oflScer in the public service, named Wells. 

Some two years after Mr. Anderson removed hither, 
he became involved in various speculations, mostly 
connected with Indian lands, which created for him 
not a few violent enemies. Yet it is claimed that he 
was a man of public spirit and warm domestic attach- 
ments. About this time, Capt. Wells arrived at Boston, 



no NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

and soon found his way to the pleasant home of Mr. 
Anderson, where he was received with the most un- 
feigned affection. 

Miss Anderson seems to have been greatly beloved 
by all about her. And presently a pic-nic party, as we 
should call it, was formed in honor of the young soldier 
and his intended. The place selected for the festivi- 
ties was a short distance in the woods, near the centre 
of what was afterwards called Hemlock Swamp, and 
through which flowed the little brook, subsequently 
BO famous under the name of Stony Brook. It was a 
lovely afternoon, in summer, and their sports were car- 
ried forward in great glee. The baptismal name of 
Miss Anderson, the tradition asserts, was Julia; a name 
not very common in those days. And Julia, on this 
occasion, as might readily be supposed, was made pre- 
siding queen. She was crowned with the choicest 
wild flowers and conducted to a mossy throne erected 
on a flat rock, close by the brook. 

Towards evening, as the joyful party were still pur- 
suing their sports, old Rattlesnake, a Natick Indian, 
mentioned by Mr. Turner, wlio had become an uncom- 
promising enemy of Mr. Anderson, suddenly appeared 
on the other side of the brook, and by one of his ter- 
rific yells struck petrifying terror to each young 
heart. Without giving time for their recovery, he 
hurled his tomahawk at the head of Julia and she fell 
dead into the brook. Capt. Wells, however, soon re- 
covered his selfpossession, and dashed toward the 
savage. But his courage only added another bloody 
trophy to the red victor's hand. 

Rattlesnake marched off into the deep forest, with 
the curling locks of Julia and her betrothed dangling 
together from his wampum belt. And upon the green 



OBADIAH TURNER. Ill 

bank of the brook, side by side, lay the two cold and 
scalpless forms. 

The Avhole settlement was, of course, soon in pur- 
suit. But we find no reliable record of the result; 
nor, indeed, anything more reliable on the subject than 
the traditionary accounts now given. 

But to return to the Subject of our sketch. The 
spirit of patriotism which Mr. Turner so early ex- 
pressed continued to develope itself in the community, 
and ultimately placed us where we are in a political 
point of view. His prophesies, apparently founded 
more on a knowledge of the workings of the human 
mind than the tendency of outward events, have been 
in many instances verified to the letter. And we think 
ourselves fully justified in all that we have said in his 
praise. 

That he experienced the common vicissitudes of life 
it is needless to state, for none are exempt. From a 
remark or two in his journal we are led to think that 
he was one of those self-relying people who are slow 
to believe that men are not able, in a general way, to 
shape their own fortunes. Yet he was honest and 
discriminating, while so opposed to anything like ma- 
terialism or fatalism. And his charity for others was 
boundless. We never find him, like some of the proud 
worldlings of this generation, turning upon a less for- 
tunate neighbor and upbraiding him as the producer 
of his own misfortunes. We all realize the value 
of our own exertions, and should also realize that good 
and ill fortunes are dispensed to the deserving and 
undeserving, by rules unknown to all but the great 
Distributer himself. We are not ignorant of the ex- 
pressive lines of Goldsmith, so often quoted on this 



112 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

point. But tliero is more sweetness in his poetry than 
truth in his philosophy. We are all on the great Sea 
of Life, subject to its winds and storms. And it is as 
unreasonable for one to declare that the course of 
each is in his own keeping as to declare that the ships 
upon the ocean can hold their way in spite of wind 
and storm. Yet, as it is unbecoming in the mariner to 
fold his arms and indolently yield to fate, so it is unbe- 
coming in those on the stormy voyage of life to spare 
exertion to improve their condition. 

As before observed, Mr. Turner was quite aged 
when he escaped from this world of tribulation and 
toil. His funeral was attended by a very large con- 
course. Much wine and cider were disposed of on 
the occasion ; but no stronger drink was provided, in 
obedience to his dying injunction. His remains Avere 
interred in Avhat we now call the Old Burying Ground. 
It was not then so generally the practice, as now, to 
have monuments erected over the dead. Whether a 
stone ever marked his resting place we know not ; but 
if there was one, it has long since disappeared. 

He laid down trusting in a merciful Redeemer, and, 
we doubt not, will receive the recompense of a good 
and faithful servant. And it is fortunate that one pos- 
sessing so honest, genial and unprejudiced a mind, 
should have left such a record as he has. He seems 
to have extenuated nothing, and he surely set down 
nothing in malice. 

It is by no means difficult for the most ignorant and 
dull to discover faults in others ; and the censorious 
may never be at a loss for opportunities to reprehend. 
But it is a recognized truth that very few are suffi- 
ciently Avise to discreetly praise ; and it is among 
those fcAv that Mr. Turner is entitled to be ranked. 



OBADIAH TURNER, 113 

He was not censorious, nor was he inclined to indis- 
criminate laudation. 

Some people are naturally of such crooked growth 
that it is utterly impossible for them to be straight 
with any one. In thought they can dwell only upon 
the evil and the dark ; in speech can only magnify the 
blemishes of their neighbors ; are never communicative 
excepting in the way of fault-finding; are full of sus- 
picions and insinuations ; and are prodigal of dolorous 
" buts." Happily, however, there are others of oppo- 
site character; those who are forward to think and 
speak of the good qualities of those around them; to 
find comfort in every vicissitude. The one class wail 
along the journey of life always begirt Avith clouds ; the 
other rejoice along a way of sunshine. And it was in the 
great procession of the latter, which has been for ages 
filing heavenward, that Obadiali Turner passed away. 

In perusing a volume on the plan of the present, it 
is convenient to keep in mind a variety of the -com- 
mon facts of history. And hence, in these earlier pnges, 
we have felt the propriety of recalling some things that 
might to the intelligent reader at first appear imper- 
tinent. To some extent we have been compelled to 
make our pages thus far rather initiatory, though we 
trust they have not proved barren of interest. But 
an unincumbered field for the display of our Jewels 
will presently be attained. 

We are gratified in having been able to introduce Mr. 
Turner and Mr. Hart. Historians have generall}- over- 
looked them. But the former, especially, would have 
become conspicuous generations ago, had not his inval- 
uable journal remained sleeping in a garret, embalmed 
in catnip, and watched over by surly spiders. And Mr. 

8 



114 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Hart, too, through the favorable notices of him, would 
have become a historical hero. 

As to Mr. Turner, he seems to have been a man of 
peculiarly quiet habits, and averse to having his name 
blazoned. We do not even find, on examining the 
Colony Records, at what time he took the freeman's 
oath. And it is possible that he did not take it at all, 
for down to 1G64 no person could take it unless he 
were " a member in good standing of some congrega- 
tional church." And there is some doubt about his 
having been a decided congregationalist. Blany well 
disposed persons, too, were prejudiced against taking 
the oath. And he might have been one of them. He 
was evidently no office seeker or political ranter, and 
many of the privileges secured by the oath were not 
such as his habits would naturally have led him to 
covet. Indeed, we cannot find, by the Colony Rec- 
ords, that even Thomas Newhall and Thomas Dexter, 
two others of the most respectable and enterprising 
settlers of the Third Plantation, and of whom biograph- 
ical sketches will appear on subsequent pages, ever 
took the oath. Mr. Newhall was the father of the 
present great Newhall family of New England, and 
Mr. Dexter was the progenitor of the illustrious Lord 
Timothy, as well as other notables. It is barely possi- 
ble, however, that the whole four — Mr. Hart, Mr. 
Turner, Mr. Newhall and Mr. Dexter — may have taken 
the oath at the Quarterly Court, though we do not 
think they would have descended to an inferior tribunal 
while their neighbors appeared boldly at the bar of 
the Great and General Court. 

In 1G38 the town lands were divided and a record 
made of the amount apportioned to the different inhalv 
itants. But unfortunately the record has been lost^ 



OBADIAH TURNER. 115 

though a copy of some three pages is extant. We do 
not, however, find in this remnant of that important 
record, the name either of Mr. Hart or Mr. Turner, and 
hence are unable to determine with what number of 
wild acres they became encumbered. 

And now, in closing, it may not be inappropriate to 
recall to the reader a fact or two regarding the good 
old way of manufacturing Freemen. It was under the 
first Charter, or down to about the year 1689, that the 
custom of qualifying individuals as freemen, prevailed. 
We find little or nothing about it after the time when 
the rampant colonists seized Sir Edmond Andros, that 
popular uprising seeming to be under the dawning of a 
new political light. 

Down to 1664, as just said, no person could take 
the freeman's oath, unless he were " a member in good 
standing of some congregational church." But during 
that year a royal order allowed such residents to be 
admitt.-^d as produced ceriif:3ates that they were of 
good moral character, and sound in doctrine, signed 
by some clergyman in regular standing to whom they 
were well known. By the oath they bound themselves 
to be faithful subjects to the Commonwealth — to 
yield assistance and support thereto by person and es- 
tate — to endeavor to maintain all the liberties thereof 
— to submit to its wholesome laws and orders — to 
avoid all plots and evil practices against it — to give 
votes and suffrages in good faith and under a consci- 
entious endeavor to promote the public Aveal — doing 
all " without respect of persons or favor of any man." 
And a variety of other things which the good citizen 
of this day endeavors to do, without taking an oath. 

Freemen alone had the right to vote for rulers or 
hold offices. But these were rights not so much es- 



116 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

teemed then as now ; perhaps because the emoluments 
were not so great. And it must not be imagined that 
people wore then so enlightonod in these matters as 
now. With us it would be rank political heresy to say 
that a right to vote were not a most precious right. 
And as to oiHce, it would be still ranker heresy to 
deny the right to scramble for that. Not so in those 
times of ignorance ; and hence we find that many 
prominent individuals were not freemen. Those who 
were not freemen were termed residents. And all of 
these, who were twenty years and upwards of age, and 
who had resided in a place six months, were required 
to take an oath of allegiance to the government. 

The whole body of freemen were required to meet 
at Boston, annually, and in a General Court of Elec- 
tions, to choose a Governor, Lieut. Governor and other 
magistrates. And this practice was continued till 
about the year 1G34, when the greatness of numbers 
rendered it inconvenient. It was then required that 
the freemen should assemble in their several towns for 
the purpose of voting. And so commenced that time- 
honored Yankee institution, the annual Town Meeting 
for the choice of State Officers. 

The custom of qualifying freemen, as before ob- 
served, fell into disuse about the year 16S9. But for 
some years previous to that the distinction between 
Freemen and Residents seems to have been by degrees 
growing less and less marked. 



THOMAS NETV^HALL. 

«' He was of noble parentage, 

and he was father, too, 
Of sons brave, virtuous and sage, 

and daughters faire and true." 

We find Mr. Newhall here in the Third Plantation as 
early as 1G30. Perhaps the remark on page 114, that 
he was the father of the great Newhall family of New 
England, was a little too liberal, for we find that An- 
thony Newhall, and one or two others of the stock, 
came over at an early day. Indeed the stereotype 
assertion of historians, when speaking of New England 
families, that " three brothers came over," may be 
made of the Newhalls Avith an average probability of 
truth. 

The name, in this country, has always been variously 
spelled — as, Newhall, Newall, Newell, and even, in 
the last mode, with the extraordinary prefix of an h to 
the last syllable. And it is not easy now to deter- 
mine Avhich spelling was first adopted here. Newhall, 
at all events, is a very ancient style. And that 
must be the right one, unless the reputed origin of the 
name be fabulous. As elsewhere remarked, Ave feel 
little interest in tracing ancestry. But occasionally a 
leisure hour may be agreeably spent in the service, 
especially Avhen so honorable a line as that in question 
is concerned. Manv members of that family Avho have 

(117) 



118 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

not become acquainted with the curious learning re- 
specting their origin may be gratified with a brief 
sketch. And those readers who are not so happy as 
to be members, may have similar reason to be pleased 
with a hasty glance into the fountain whence sprang 
the blood that flows in most American veins. Let us 
then, for a moment, dig together some distance back 
among the clods of time ; for it is often with families 
as with carrots, the best part being under ground. 

Some fourteen hundred years ago, or during the 
first half of the fifth century, a grim, barbaric host, 
calling themselves Saxons and hailing from the small 
islands at the mouth of the Elbe, and the Baltic shores, 
made their appearance in England. They had been 
invited over by the Britons, who were then weak and 
much exposed to the inroads of the Scots, Picts and 
other fierce adventurers. Previously, for some cen- 
turies, perhaps all the time from the days of Julius 
Cesar, the Britons had been protected by the Romans. 
But the latter had recently withdrawn, as Rome needed 
all her forces at home to defend against the Goths and 
Vandals. 

The Saxons were a warlike, shrewd and persevering 
race — much like uncivilized Yankees — and soon beat 
ofi^ all the enemies of the Britons. But it turned out 
that the Britons were no great gainers by the valor of 
the Saxons, for no sooner were the invaders driven ofi" 
than the Saxons completely subjugated the Britons 
themselves and erected a government of their own. 
And they kept up a continual scene of petty war and 
rapine, holding the poor Britons, as long as there 
were any left, in the most al)ject condition. 

It has been said tliat the laws of a nation nio the 
aurest index of their character and condition. And it 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 119 

must be so; for the kws of a community proceed from 
its very bosom and business. The humanity, the moral 
and intellectual state and degree of civilization of a 
people may be unmistakably ascertained by this me- 
dium — also their warlike, agricultural or commercial 
characteristics. And hence a slight glance at the Saxon 
jurisprudence may be useful. 

The Saxons recognised the trial by judicium Dei, as 
they called it; or ordeal. First, there was the fire 
ordeal, designed for the more eminent of criminals. 
The person charged was adjudged to walk bare footed 
and blindfolded, over nine red hot ploughshares laid 
lengthwise a little distance apart. If he passed over 
without treading on them, or treading on them was 
unhurt, he was considered innocent. Emma, the 
mother of Edward the Confessor, is stated to have 
gone through this ordeal unharmed, thus purging her- 
self of the charge of unchaste commerce with the 
bishop of Winchester. Second, there was the hot 
water ordeal, by which the guilt or innocence of a 
party was determined by thrusting the arm into boiling 
water. If the arm came out unharmed, the person was 
adjudged innocent ; otherwise, guilty. Third, the cold 
water ordeal, in which the accused was secured by a 
cord under the arms and plunged overboard. If he 
sank, and remained at the bottom for a certain specified 
time, he was deemed innocent and drawn up. Floating 
was considered evidence of guilt. Such were trials 
by ordeal ; and they seem to have originated in the 
extraordinary genius of the Saxons. And while we 
can hardly accept them as evidence of a peculiarly 
intelligent conception of Christian truth, the}' yet show 
a reliance on the special interposition of Providence 
for the relief of the innocent and punishment of tho 



120 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

^uiltj, more talked about than apparently believed in 
by the good people of this day. 

The Saxons were really but a shade above savages 
in character, and in their diplomacy depended much 
more upon their clubs and battle-axes than upon the 
justice of their cause. 

Christianity was probably introduced into Britain 
during the Roman occupation ; perhaps as early as the 
days of the apostles. But it appears to have existed 
only in spots. If the Saxons, in the early part of their 
occupation made any pretension to Christianity, it was 
of a curious kind and mixed up with many dark and 
unsavory superstitions. At all events, it seems certain 
that nothing that could properly be called the Christian 
religion prevailed through the land before the seventh 
century. Whatever their religion was, in it they were 
extremely gross and addicted to cruel and bloody rites, 
believing in auguries and charms and frequently sacri- 
ficing human beings. They had, indeed, imjn-oved but 
little on the Druidism of the former age. Tlio whole 
Saxon policy was based on selfishness and violence. 
Intelligence and just dealing were hardly known. Pe- 
cuniary satisfaction was received for all manner of 
crimes, and every kind of corruption prevailed. In 
short, the early Saxons were ignorant, un[)rincipled, 
blood thirsty barbarians. 

We have thus endeavored to recall to the mind of 
the reader one or two points in the characler of the 
people whose blood some of our fourth of July orators 
and lyceura lecturers instruct us to be very proud 
of having in our veins. But yet there were in those 
stern old Saxon souls germs of true greatness. And 
as they increased in civilization and embraced a moro 
rational religion, tbey began to discover most excellent 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 121 

traits. And we are justified; to a considerable extent, 
in feeling- proud of" our inheritance from them. But 
do we not rather overestimate our obligation ? Strong 
will, independence of thought, and freedom of action, 
are unquestionably Saxon traits. And are they not just 
as unquestionably Yankee traits ? They are what dis- 
tinguish Americans from all people not of the same 
lineage. 

The first settlers of New England were impatient of 
control and extremely jealous of the centralization of 
power. Like the old Saxons, each one claimed for 
himself abilit}^ to sustain a part in the administration 
of public affairs, and was fond of having his claim 
allowed. And this has grown with our growth and 
strengthened with our strength, till we have become 
the most ravenous office seekers on earth. This Avould 
perhaps admit of a show of justification were the great 
purpose to have affairs administered aright. But when 
the scramble is merely for emoluments or honors, it 
is about time to ask if the ship is not heading for 
breakers. Nevertheless, the great point that all should 
have an equal chance, is manly. 

The Great and General Court of our early colonial 
days was, as before remarked, composed of the whole 
body of freemen. And when the numbers had so 
increased that the assembly became too numerous to 
be held within doors, they did not, like the Icelanders, 
hold annual assemblies of the whole people in the open 
air, which would have been but a carrying out of the 
principle they so highly regarded, but established 
the Annual Town Meeting, at which all the freemen 
could meet in their own towns and elect from among 
themselves such as they were willing to trust their 
interests with in the General Court. The individuals 



122 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

SO elected were at first called Deputies, afterwards, 
Representatives. As the towns increased in population 
city organizations were resorted to for obviating the 
inconveniences of large assemblages. But tliu people 
came slowly to this. Boston, the first city in tlie Bay 
State, did not receive her charter till 1822, and tlien had 
a population of some 45,000. Within the last twenty 
years, however, several places have adopted the more 
aristocratic form of government. Lynn, tlie bright 
blossom of the Third Plantation, made the year 1850 
memorable in the annals of the world by then taking 
her rank as a city. But all such changes so far in- 
crease the distance from elementary freedom. And if 
they add to the facilities for governing they also afford 
the better opportunities for ambitious politicians to 
successfully pursue their ends. 

Our forefathers, to a considerable extent, eschewed 
the formalities that seem necessary in conducting our 
more complicated public business. Nor were they 
scared at any cry about legislating for men's conscien- 
ces or the hazard of departing from precedent. It was 
their \vay to determine every matter by its own merits, 
unhampered by old forms and precepts. And the Sax- 
on blood that was in them led to this independence, as 
well as to watchfulness against approaches towards a 
centralization of power. 

Now the policy of the Normans, who in 1066 subju- 
gated the Saxons, was directly the reverse of the policy 
of the latter. They were for centralizing political pow- 
er; taking it, as far as possible, from the people, and 
lodging it with the sovereign and aristocracy. In short, 
the Normans established the feudal system. 

And as regards the two lines of policy — Saxon and 
Normau — there is no doubt that by the Saxon the 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 123 

strength and energy of a people are much more surely 
brought into action, though there may be danger that 
rampant ambition Avill work ruin. The natural power 
of a people residess in the lower classes. And any 
polity that has a tendency to repress it, is cramping 
and wrong. The Norman polity was calculated to 
blunt the national energies, though it gave greater 
stability to affairs. Mere peace and security, however, 
to the American mind seem but a poor return for the 
abridgment of leading natural rights. The influence 
of the English Church was deemed by our fathers 
favorable to centralization and an aristocracy — the 
Squire's pew and his Lordship's tablet had met their 
eyes in the sanctuary — and hence sprang much of 
their hatred towards it. The Papal Church was in- 
clined to the very extreme in that direction ; and 
hence there never was much love for it in minds 
partaking of the Saxon element. 

But we have said enough of those bluff old Saxons, 
they were introduced here for the laudable purpose of 
showing from what brilliant ancestry the Newhalls 
descended ; for, on the maternal side, the first Newhall 
was a pure Saxon. 

The great male progenitor of the Newhalls was a 
(Norman. It was in the eleventh century that the 
Normans invaded England and under William the Con- 
queror made themselves masters of the land. They 
were of the Scandinavian race, and came chiefly from 
Norway and Denmark ; were fierce and warlike, but 
much in advance of the Saxons, in several respects. 
They secured the supremacy at the battle of Hastings, 
October, 1066. And it was a conquest overwhelming 
and complete ; almost as destructive to the Saxons as 
was the Saxon conquest to the poor Britons. 



124 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

The Normans had a better religion and more polished 
manners than the Saxons, and evidently considered 
themselves as belonging to a better race. But they 
had a more imperfect conception of individual right 
and responsibility. It may be mentioned as an illus- 
tration of certain differences of character between the 
two people that the night before the battle of Hastings 
was spent by the Normans in prayer and religious exer- 
cises and by the Saxons in drunkenness, rioting and 
buffoonery. Yet the Normans were predatory in their 
habits, perfidious and inhuman. Their administration 
was sustained by force and sanguinary violence. And 
a most cruel disregard was manifested for the claims 
and rights of those whom they had subjugated. 

The Christianity of the Normans was evidently not 
ot a very elevated type though better than that of the 
Saxons. Their lawsuits were determined in about as 
rational a way as that of ordeal. They introduced the 
trial by battle, or single combat; that is, plaintiff and 
defendant had a regular fight, and judgment was pro- 
nounced in favor of the victor. Our phrase "throwing 
down the glove " comes from the custom. The appel- 
lee threw down his glove and declared himself ready 
to defend by his body. The appellant took up the 
glove and replied that with his body he Avould make 
good his appeal. The battle was fought Avith batons. 
In a murder case, for instance, if the one charged could 
maintain the fight from sunrise till early starlight he 
was acquitted; otherwise he Avas adjudged guilty and 
immediately hanged. And it is remarkable that this 
singular feature became so Avoveu into English juris- 
prudence that the right of appeal to battle was not 
abolished till within the present century ; though the 
taste, or more probably the courage, of the people did 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 125 

not often lead them to resort to it during the last cen- 
tury or two. And we cannot avoid remarking that 
were it revived and established as an imperative pro- 
ceeding, in civil actions, in our American courts, the 
dockets would probably soon cease to groan under 
such interminable lists of cases as they now do. 

In August, 1817, one Abraham Thornton was tried 
at Warwick, England, for the murder of Mary Ashford, 
a gay countrj^ giil; and though there were circumstan- 
ces appearing- much against him, yet he was acquitted, 
the judge, Holroyd, considering that an alibi had been 
fully proved. Soon after the acquittal, however, a 
brother of the murdered girl was induced to proceed 
against Thornton, for a second trial, by the ancient 
Writ of Appeal, which process rather demanded pun- 
ishment for the private and particular injury than for 
the offence against the public. Thornton was again 
arrested and taken to London for trial in the King's 
Bench Court. 

Now it happened to occur to Thornton's shrewd 
legal advisers, that the same old law that enabled Ash- 
ford to take out his writ of appeal also enabled the 
one against whom it was brought to meet it by Wager 
of Battle. So when the case came on, Thornton aston- 
ished not only the court and bar, but the whole nation, 
by the plea : " Not Guilty. And I am ready to defend 
the same by my body." Then he threw his glove 
upon the floor. The next proceeding was for each 
party to present in regular form all the ficts upon 
either side of the main question ; the appellant endea- 
voring to show that the appellee was guilty, and tho 
appellee endeavoring to show his innocence. Then 
the eminent counsel, Chitty for the appellant and Tin- 
dal for the appellee, elaborately argued the cause. 



123 KOTABLE PEOPLE. 

And; linally, the court determined that it had not been 
made sufficiently clear that Thornton was guilty to 
deny him the right of battle. This placed things in 
rather an ominous position, for it happened that Thorn- 
ton was an athletic man and Ashford quite a stripling. 
The court, however, without formally announcing a 
determination to allow the battle, made some sugges- 
tions. And before a decision was promulgated Ashford 
prayed for leave to discontinue his appeal. His prayer 
was granted and Thornton of course discharged. This, 
as remarked, was in 1817 ; and it appears to be the last 
case on record in which this singular right was de- 
manded. The attorney general, soon after, brought in 
a bill to repeal the strange old relic of Norman juris- 
prudence. Thornton had respectable connections, but 
does not appear to have been of the best habits. Soon 
after this occurrence he came to America, under an 
assumed name. And it has been said that a stranger 
who died ;.u Lynn in 1S20, Avas this ramc individual. 

By the Norman customs the pugilistic propensities 
of our nature became regulated by scientific rules. 
The prize ring is a Norman institution. And we find 
the "noble art of self-defence" fostered among all 
people of the Norman lineage. Christianity has not 
extinguished the savage propen^iity of some to pommel 
and be pommeled; nor the dehglit of others, more 
careful of their own heads, to witness such ennobling 
exhibitions. The great contest in England, in April, 
1860, between Heenan, the Ani'^rican champion, and 
Sayers, the British, created a thrill flirougliout both 
countries about equal to that produced by the battle 
of Bunker Hill, and afforded a rather remarkable illus- 
tration of the refined taste of all classes. 

It is well determined t!iat the Feudal System ^vas 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 127 

established about the year 1075 ; though some have 
imagined that traces of it could be found among the 
Saxons. But it seems quite clear that the Saxons had 
no settled tenures of a feudal character. Lordship and 
vassalage have justly been denominated a Norman prin- 
ciple. William the Conqueror divided the kingdom 
into what may be called baronies. And these were 
granted to men of superior military prowess and fidel- 
ity ; the condition being that they should hold them- 
selves in readiness to furnish a stated number of 
knights or soldiers and a certain amount of money at 
the call of the sovereign. The people became the mis- 
erable and slavish subjects of the barons, whose lordly 
castles began to tower up in grim grandeur all over 
the land. The freedom of the masses became extinct. 
A very few of the old English castles date back as 
far as the earlier Saxon times. But they were not 
probably erected for such purposes as were those of 
the feudal times. And many of Lhe venerable erec- 
tions that the English now call Saxon are Norman. 
During the brief interval from 1016 to 1041, when the 
Danes under Canute the Great, Harold Harefoot and 
Hardicanute, held the supremacy, probably not one 
castle was erected. But the Normans, on introducing 
the feudal system, completed a large number. They 
were generally built on an extensive scale and in the 
most substantial manner. Sometimes they were erected 
near rivers and sometimes on eminences. When upon 
a site easy of access, they were surrounded by moats 
with bridges that might be drawn up; and the pon- 
derous walls were proof against any warlike engine 
of the day. From the turrets of these lordly castles, 
extensive views were had, and an enemy stood small 
chance of approaching undiscovered. 



128 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

In tliese castles the old barons dwelt in lordly state, 
surrounded by their tenantry and vassals, who tilled 
the soil and devoted their lives to their lords. Some- 
times the barons made war upon each other, marching 
forth with their little armies and devastating the terri- 
tory of their hostile compeers. Little attention was 
paid to learning or the elegant arts and refinements of 
life. The chase, the tournament, feasting and 'reveling 
occupied most of the time spared from the service of 
the sovereign. A chivalric spirit was fostered, and a 
rude but hearty hospitality reigned. Devotion to the 
fascinations of female society and a spirit of undefined 
knight errantry inspired the young; wine and wassail 
edified the old. We look back upon that period as 
enveloped in a radiant mist. It was a transition period. 
And from its rugged inspiration the more ennobling 
traits of English character began to develop, though 
with no great rapidity. 

The baronial establishments so increased that at the 
close of Stephen's reign, in 1154, more than a thousand 
castles existed. And a large portion of them continued 
to lift their frowning battlements for a long series of 
years, furnishing strongholds for contending parties 
during the turbulent times of the Plantagenets, the 
Red and White Roses and the early Tudors. Around 
them clusters much of the most stirring romance of 
English history. 

The barons, when united, possessed an irresistible 
power in the kingdom. They even extorted from King 
John, in 1215, the Magna Charta, which remains indis- 
putable evidence of their power, for kings had rather 
part with their teeth than their prerogatives. To this 
day the great charter is known as the bulwark of 
English liberty. But the sturdy barons wei-e human 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 129 

beings, and as such often grossly inconsistent, denying 
to their inferiors some of the dearest natural rights, 
while making the most exacting demands for them- 
selves. 

At times, the recognised power of the barons over 
the peasantry seems to have been almost unlimited. 
And in many instances that power was exercised in a 
cruel and mercenary manner. The extraordinary right 
of the lord to be the first occupant of the peasant's 
bridal bed was sometimes compromised at a most des- 
perate sacrifice on the subject's part. In a word, the 
rule of the barons was harsh and spirit-crushing in 
the extreme. 

The way seems now prepared to come more directly 
to the romantic origin of the Newhall famil}'. We 
have said that the great father of the line was a Nor- 
man of pure blood, and the great mother a Saxon of 
blood equally pure. 

There was in Wiltshire, in the reign of Richard Coeur 
de Lion, a wealthy baron, of unmixed Norman lineage. 
His castle was on a bold and commanding site among 
the highlands that rise not far from the western border 
of Salisbury Plain. His domain was extensive and 
rich, and his tenantry among the most happy in the 
realm. His magnificent castle was one of the first and 
strongest, and had withstood many a fierce assault. 
Its ponderous walls and deep moat showed that at the 
time of its erection it was expected that the mad waves 
of war would beat against it. Its stern old towers 
and mossy turrets overlooked a glorious landscape. 
And within, it was fashioned to meet the exigences of 
Budden invasion as well as the demands of a most exten- 
sive hospitality. The capacious banqueting halls were 
sufficient for the many gentry who assembled at tour- 
F^ 9 



130 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

nainont or otlier festival; and tlieir retinues found 
ample room and unstinted cheer. There, the fairest 
maidens of the land di?played their charms, and fasci- 
nated by their feats of grace and daring, in field and 
forest. And there the devoted knight, unknowing fear 
when meeting hostile knight, knelt humbly for the 
favor of his lady-love. The huntsman's horn rang out 
at break of day, and the answering hounds bayed 
their readiness for duty. The hawker cried, and the 
sanguinary bird wheeled from its airy height, eager to 
do its murderous work. In peaceful times, the days 
passed in almost unbroken festivity; and when the 
solemn notes of the curfew bell came sounding over 
the hills, the tired revellers were quite ready for 
repose. 

Among the tenantry of this Wiltshire baron was an 
enterprising and trustworthy householder who had al- 
ways stood high in the estimation of his lord, and been 
the recipient of many favors. His most loved occupa- 
tion was husbandry, though he was not unskillful with 
the sword nor wanting in valor, as was fairly shown 
on more than one occasion when he had supported his 
superior on the field. He was entrusted with such 
duties as not unfrequently required his presence at 
the castle ; and there his intelligence and good manners 
secured for him a reception more like that of an equal 
than a dependent. Now this tenant was of pure Saxon 
blood. He could as directly trace his pedigree to the 
Saxon fount as could the baron trace his to the Norman. 
He took great pride in his descent, and professed much 
satisfaction in transmitting to his children untainted 
blood, for his conjugal bed was shared b}'' one of as 
pure Saxon origin as he. And many a bantering did 
he and his good humored hege engage in as to the 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 131 

merits of their respective races ; such contests usually 
terminating in the sportive remark by the baron that 
in pity for the rest of the world he hoped that at 
some time a way might be opened for the production 
of a race of demi-gods by a union of such purity and 
power ; and darkly hinting that even then means 
seemed preparing, by which a consummation so de- 
voutly to be desired might some day be attained. 

The home of this favored tenant was graced by a 
daughter of rare endowments. To her beautiful Saxon 
features was added a charming delicacy of manner. 
And her sparkling wit and graceful assurance were 
irresistibly fascinating. From earliest childhood she 
had been a sort of pet at the castle, M'hither she often 
went with her father. And the inmates, in a compan- 
ionable way, instructed her in arts and accomplishments 
more befitting the lordly condition than that in which 
she was born. She loved with the jovial lordlings to 
spo: u through the ancient halls, dimmed by the grim 
armorial hangings ; to listen to the wandering legend- 
ary's tales, the harpist's lays, the jester's merry turns. 
But more than all she loved to steal away to a quaint 
little room far up in the old tower, where alone she 
might scan the glorious landscape, with its glistening 
streams, green woods and flowery meadows, and con- 
template the bright picture of her own dear cottage 
home nestling in the hill side copse, with the lowing 
herds and bleating flocks dotting the broad fields. 
In that undisturbed retreat, too, she loved to sit and 
ruminate upon such subjects as might well be expected 
to agitate a young and susceptible heart in that age 
of gallantry and romance. And as the darker shades 
of twilight gathered, she might be excused for the 
fancy — if fancy it were or an excuse were needed — 



132 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

that she beheld some brave knight galloping athwart 
the plain to meet his lady-love, at the far off castle just 
descernible upon a frowning crag among the dim hills; 
or some hapless fugitive, fleeing for shelter within 
the sacred precincts marked by the gray convent 
tower. 

And could fair Haroldine — for such appears to have 
been the baptismal name of her of whom we speak — 
have been permitted, in one of her contemplative 
moods to have thrown a glance into the then far 
future, even to this our day, what would she have 
beheld? Jn the picture unrolled would she have 
found most cause to rejoice over an array of virtuous 
sons and daughters, zealous to do good, and honoring 
the line of which she was the great mother — we mean 
the Newhall — or to weep over an army of blockheads 
and heartless worldlings, zealous to do evil, and cloud- 
ing it with dishonor? Would the picture have been 
one calculated to impart fresh inspiration to her young 
heart, and lead her to tread those halls and laAvns with 
a prouder step, or one calculated to so roughly touch 
her tender nerves as to induce a headlong plunge from 
that frowning parapet? Answer that, to your own 
consciences, ye of the lineage. 

We have given the baptismal name of this fair 
daughter of the Saxon race, but are unable to de- 
termine the name by which the particular family was 
distii]guished. Surnames were then just coming into 
popular use in England; and a great many of those 
most common with us had their curious origin at that 
period. 

When she had arrived at a suitable age, Haroldine 
had many admirers among the higher class of the 
baronial tenantry. And though a little coquctish, she 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 133 

was not of a temperament to withstand the tender 
advances of young Arthur, the manly and promising 
son of a neighboring tenant ; especially as those ad- 
vances were supported by the approval of her parents 
and their well-wishers at the castle. 

Arthur and Haroldine became affianced. 

He was of her own position in life, virtuous, and in 
ever)'- way worthy of her hand. Brave and loyal, he 
was looked upon by the lord as one whose strong arm 
might some day be relied upon to do valiant service 
in support of the barony should perils beset it. He 
loved the excitements and dangers of the field, and had 
already by his courage and prowess won a noble suit 
of armor, in which, with glittering helmet, his erect 
form rivalled the bravest knight. Yet, though he 
might dream of wars to come, and renown upon the 
battle field, or even a crusader's glorious benediction, 
he must still meet the realities of life in the field of the 
husbandman and the duties of a dependent. 

The sweet, dreamy period of betrothal passed rapidly 
and the nuptial day of Arthur and Haroldine was ap- 
pointed. And it was arranged that the ceremony 
should take place at the castle. 

It was a calm autumnal day. The sun had hardly 
begun to decline, when the spacious grounds of the 
castle were alive with the joyous tenantry, all in their 
best attire, come at their lord's bidding, to make merry 
and greet witli smiles and good wishes those on whose 
account the festivities had been appointed. 

And then, as the first shades of twilight began to 
gather, beneath the patriarchal branches of an ancient 
hawthorn, stood Arthur, his manly form erect and his 
countenance bearing the impress of serious realization 
of the responsibilities he was about to assume, blended 



134 KOTABLE PEOPLE. 

with happy anticipution of the pleasures in store for 
him. By his side was Iluroldine, radiant in beauty, 
gazing up to him as to the loved warder of all her 
earthly happiness. The good hearted baron and the 
ladies were there. And there too was the jolly old 
priest in his cleanest robe. 

The setting sun seemed to linger a moment for 
some kind breeze to sway an intej'posing bough that 
it might bestow a last kiss on the virgin lips of ITaiH)l- 
dine. Presently the wind lent its friendly aid, and 
with the kiss offered the incense of flowers. 

The sun set ; and Haroldine was a bride. 

The occasion of the nuptials was made by the liberal 
fiouled baron such a one as even a petty noble might 
envy. The spacious apartments were thrown open to 
the joyous tenantry; and the brilliant lights shed their 
lustre on boards loaded with a feast of fattest things. 
And when all had eaten and drank, the old harpers 
played, the minstrels sang, and the legendaries clianted 
their tales. Then the stalwart youth donned the old 
suits of armor and engaged in friendly tilt with halberd 
and foil : while in the group of shy and blushing 
maidens, the aged crone dispensed her fortunes by 
her palmistry and mirror of love. 

The hour of midniglit came. And presently all was 
silent at the castle. The tenantry had withdrawn to 
their quiet homes, each bearing some simple memorial 
of the occasion from their lord, and the blessing of the 
priest. None remained, save Arthur and his bride. 
They, in compliance with the ancient custom, were to 
remain till morning. 

Soon, the midniglit silence of that lately laughter 
echoing hall was broken by an earnest debate between 
Arthur and his lord. The baron insisted on exercising 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 135 

the right that was his by the strange old custom 
respecting the first occupation of the peasant's bridal 
bed, to which we have alluded. And even now, in 
the most sumptuous lodging apartment that the castle 
afforded were the maids disrobing the beaming bride. 
It was long in vain that the bridegroom urged upon 
his lord the claims of nature, of honor and love ; and 
as long in vain that he offered all his money and goods. 
But the liege's heart was not of stone. He relented, 
and giving his faithful subject a warm grasp of the 
hand, playfully challenged him to refer the question 
to the bride herself. And in the same spirit the chal- 
lenge was accepted ; neither, most certainly, doubting 
as to the nature of the answer she would return. 

A trusty page was despatched to the bridal chamber. 
And he soon returned with the strange and unexpected 
reply, that the custom having been observed by her 
own revered ancestors, from respect to their memory 
she could interpose no objection to its course. Who 
would have anticipated such an an-;wer? Truly, the 
female heart is an inexplicable mystery. Had Shaks- 
peare lived before, and given his celebrated definition 
of frailty, poor Arthur might have adopted it in bitter- 
ness of soul. Yet, one miy readily conceive of rea- 
sons that might have strongly urged Haroldine to such 
a decision, even without taking in view the character 
of the age ; an age when derelictions in the conjugal 
relation, and even maiden purity, were not viewed in a 
light like that of tlie present day ; an age in which 
many a fair Rosamond bloomed unblushing on the 
baronial manors. 

The lord did not banter his chilled tenant on the 
unanticipated success that had met his challenge. Nei- 
ther did the tenant <r]ve vent to his feelinjr-^. The 



136 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

bright hopes that a few hours before had made him 
the happiest of men had suddenly become so clouded 
that he was now the most miserable. Yet he uttered 
no curses, no lamentations. But there was a terrible 
emphasis in his silence. 

Without spcid\ing a Avord Arthur walked forth into 
the cool air. With his own strong arm he lowered 
the liglitest draw-bridge and passed the moat. And the 
first streak of morning light found him away upon 
Salisbury Plain, hastily journeying toward the far-off 
town Avhose tall cathedral spire could be discerned 
even from the castle tower. 

But what could have been the feelings that swelled 
the breast of Haroldine when the maidens had left her 
alone in that gorgeous chamber? Reflection, stern 
and uncompromising, must have claimed at least a mo- 
mentary sway. With what blushes must her radiant 
Saxon face have burned. And how wildly must her 
disquieted heart have beat. Formidable must have 
been the struggle in which the loved image of Arthur 
was forced to disappear before supposed duty or frail 
inclination. 

A few months passed, and we find Haroldine mistress 
of a delightful little cottage on the bank of a small 
stream that flowed from one of the noble hunting 
parks of the barony. She had a matronly adviser and 
gay companions. But though supplied with every 
outward appliance for enjoyment, her grave demeanor 
plainly declared that she was not at peace within. She 
had received no tidings of Arthur since the night of his 
bootless bridal. 

A pretty garden lay between the door of the cottage 
of Haroldine and the pleasant road. Noble trees, 
choice vines and shrubs added their stately beauty 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 137 

and grace to the landscape, far and near. At the em- 
bowered gate-way was not unfreqiiently seen the 
caparisoned steed of the baron himself, for he found 
the cottage an agreeable resting place in his hunting 
and other equestrian excursions. And the bay of the 
hound and scream of the hawk often startled the adja- 
cent woods. 

From the night that the old priest pronounced him 
the husband of Haroldine, Arthur had never been seen 
within the barony. It was supposed that he had gone 
to the foreign wars. And many thought that he would 
soon make his name famous and return to England 
loaded with honors and wealth. 

Presently, great improvements were to be made on 
the baronial grounds, for the sovereign was to visit 
the lord and spend a few jolly days. A new hall, or 
lodge, as such structures seem indiscriminately to 
have been called, must be first erected for the hunts- 
men's bouts. And soon, in a fine old grove, just in 
sight of the cottage of Haroldine, did the fantastic 
walls of the new erection begin to appear. The work 
went bravely on, and in a little time the hall was ready 
for dedication. 

A grand fete was held on the inspiring occasion of 
dedicating this famous new hall. The gentry from far 
and near assembled. The day was spent in the free 
sports of the field, and the evening in boisterous hilari- 
ty. And midnight found the revellers within those 
new walls, enjoying in full tide the unpolished hospi- 
tality of the chief of the barony. 

At that solemn hour of mysteries there came in haste 
a squire with a message for the baron's ear. And what 
was that hastened message ? It was even that there 
had been a birth in the cottage by the brook. The 



138 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

fair Haroldine had ushered into the world a lusty little 
soldier of fortune. Why did the lord's fine Norman 
eye so suddenly blaze with delight? Why did he 
instantly call his boisterous company to silence? And 
why did he with so many pleasurable emotions inform 
them of the happy event and bid them fill their cups 
to the brim with choicest wine to drink to the mullier 
and her son ? In rude eloquence he expressed many 
generous sentiments, and said that the little one should 
begin the world with a surname; a surname that in after 
years might become renowned by the nobility of those 
who Avould proceed from him ; and it should be a sur- 
name, too, that would commemorate the event that 
had called together, in such a friendly way, so many of 
the Wiltshire gentry. 

Then they all stood in silence, with their bumpers 
raised, the baron pondering. Presently he cried out, in 
a voice that almost shook the walls : 

" His name shall be New-Hall ! " The wine was 
gulped and the name enrolled. 

And now, gentle reader — for you must be gentle to 
have gone unmurmuringly with us on this long histo- 
rical airing — we will return to the neighborhood of 
our subject. We have stated the old tradition regard- 
ing the origin of the Newhall line. And without 
holding ourselves responsible for its truth — though 
we have heard many truths much more wonderful — 
beg leave to remind such of the family as have yet 
done nothing to its credit, that it is not now too late 
to begin the good work. 

In the first Newhall we behold a union of two un- 
sanctified races; yet the immediate father and mother — 
the Norman lord of the grandest castle in Wiltshire, 
and his beautiful Saxon subject Haroldine — were per. 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 139 

haps well enough, excepting as regards the particular 
occurrence of which that first Newhall Avas a conse- 
quence. But the Saxon and Norman races were both, 
as we have seen, of commanding ability, energy and 
enterprise ; though we have been careful about prais- 
ing their morals or manners. And the history of all 
after time has proved that they were more reliable as 
a stock than any other that could be named. 

It is not our purpose to trace the pedigree ; for, as 
elsewhere remarked, we could not go far back from 
the present time before meeting individuals whom we 
would rather avoid. It is enough for us to give the 
origin. Others can follow the lineage. Black sheep 
they will find; but not in greater proportion than in 
other folds. In some individuals the Saxon blood 
seems to predominate ; in others, the Norman. After 
so many 3-ears of adulteration, perhaps no reliable mark 
can be fixed on. The beard, however, has been con- 
sidered an important matter among mankind from Sam- 
son down. The Saxons wore their beards long. The 
Normans shaved close. So, possibly, the taste of an 
individual, as regards the appendage in question, may 
indicate the character of his blood. 

Perhaps some foe of this august family may deri- 
sively smile at the moral blemish that attended the 
first born. But this might be perilous ; for possibly it 
could be shown that he came from no purer source. 
The whole world might be drawn into the contest and 
the Newhalls come out as bright as any ; for it is not 
recorded that even Adam and Eve had a marriage 
certificate. 

The first white child born in the Third Plantation 
was a son of Thomas Newhall, our subject. And it 
was baptised by Mr. Batchellor, the first minister. On 



1-tO NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

the same solemn occasion, one or two other children 
appeared at the sacred font. It happened that little 
Tummy was handed up first. J3ut the minister shoved 
him aside, and gav^e precedence to another. Then the 
snapping of those enraged little Saxon eyes Avhich had 
so lately deigned to open on this miserable world, the 
commotion within the swaddling blanket just about 
where two little feet might have been supposed to be, 
and above all, the vigorous exercise of those infantile 
lungs, showed that there was a will if not a way to 
ofier a suitable return for the indignity. The recital 
of this interesting little occurrence to a moody member 
of the family, gave occasion for the somewhat petu- 
lent reply that in just such a Ava}^ the Newhalls have 
always been shoved aside to this hour. But we do 
not see cause for any such feeling. Types of all the 
orders of Now England greatness have appeared in 
the family. Numbers have crossed their legs in legis- 
lative chairs. Others have sat in the courts of law; 
if not on the bench certainly in the criminal dock. 
Some have beat pulpit cushions with their apostolic 
knuckles. Others have made books. Pedagogues, 
editors, doctors, lawyers, shoemakers, merchants, farm- 
ers, fishermen and gentlemen, have appeared in the 
family procession. In the army of the Revolution 
there were brave representatives from Colonel Ezra of 
the Massacliusetts line down to the red nosed drummer 
Ephraim. Tlie Jersey prison ship held a Newhall. And 
one of the first that folloAved Paul Jones on board the 
Serapis at the most terrible hour of tlie whole war, 
was also a Newhall, though he api)ears to have ship- 
ped under a different name. One was a voyager in 
the arctic regions, and another a traveler in the Ara- 
bian deserts. The bones of some lie at the bottom of 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 141 

the ocean, and of others in the golden clods of Cali- 
fornia. 

We do not mean to say that any particiilnrly brilliant 
stars of tlie I'ace have arisen from the Newhall branch — 
local luminaries always excepted. But we do maintain 
that it has presented an enviable average ; few have 
attained very high places and few have gone very low. 
Not one is brought to mind as having been in Congress 
or in tlie State Prison; but which is the high or low 
of these two places may admit of a question. The 
eagerness with which some seem to strive to win a 
passport to the latter, which, to say the least, is the 
most safe and peaceful, ^vould indicate that they es- 
teemed that rather the more elevated and desirable. 
Two of the family, however, attained very considerable 
heights. One, braved the ascent of the Himmalay 
mountains about the time Bishop Ileber was in that 
region, and in defiance of the good prelate's admoni- 
tions ; but lie was punished for his temerity by being 
turned into piUar of ice. In other words, he froze to 
death. The ascent of the other was at Boston. But 
he remained up a short time only, when the centripetal 
force upon him was so great as to violently jerk him 
through a trap door ; and had he not been providen- 
tially secured to a beam above, by a rope about his 
neck, his legs would inevitably have been broken. As 
it was, only his neck was broken. B}" a strange coin- 
cidence this event happened on the same day that his 
neighbor Hart, alluded to on a preceding page, met 
a similar fate. 

Those who expect to find a family without an un- 
worthy member, will as surely be disappointed as those 
who expect to find a tree on which none but fiir frujt 
over grew. A good average is all that we should expect 



142 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

in any thing. And of such, as already observed, this 
family can certainly boast. 

We desire to say all these things with becoming 
gravity ; for we are convinced that writers often seri- 
ously damage themselves and their cause by indulging 
in what they call wit, satire or irony — and so do talk- 
ers, as to that matter. But satire pleases readers, 
especially when it is aimed at their neighbors. And 
through this infirmity an author is very liable to be 
fooled. If a writer could always keep in mind that 
the reader cares nothing about him, his honor or inter- 
est, he would proceed with a better understanding. It 
is fair to conclude that for every satirical ebullition 
at least six enemies are made. Dean Swift, we believe, 
varies somewhat from this number, in his estimate ; 
but perhaps he calculated a little too directly from his 
own remarkable experience. However, it is this con- 
viction that danger lurks in raillery, that induces us 
to be so circuni.^pc-ct in our language. And tl- ) reader 
will please give us the benefit of our care. 

Assuming again to speak for the great Newhall fam- 
ily in America, we are once more reminded of the 
common saj'ing that it is a person's own fault that he 
is not somebody in the world. How often it is said 
that a man can make himself whatever he desires to 
be. But the idea that one can shape his own destiny, 
as before declared, is all a fudge. And it is wicked ; 
for it arrogates to man a prescience that belongs only 
to his Maker, and altogether sets aside providential 
intervention. One day Mr. Newhall was in the woods 
searching for the northeast bound of a wood lot. 
During the search he came to a spot where three 
paths met, only one of which could lead to the object 
of his search, and which that one was he had no pos- 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 143 

sible means of determining. After deliberately weigh- 
ing the probabilities, and being warned by the declining 
sun that his time was short, he took one of the paths 
and perseveringly pursued it. But if he had followed 
it till this time he would not have reached the bound, 
excepting that he might have stumbled on it in one 
of his circuits of the earth. It was not the right path. 
It led into a deep valley of hemlocks, where a rainy 
night, sundry wild beasts, and, as he thought, a legion 
of devils amused themselves over his distresses till 
morning. Now just so it is in the search after the 
good of life. So do not persist in declaring that fam- 
ilies or individuals have power to shape their own 
destinies. 

Another discouraging circumstance might be named 
in this connection. At least three feminine members 
gave extraordinary promise. But as their lofty and 
lustrous qualities began to develop, they must needs 
transplant themi-Glves into new famiilas anit turn their 
backs upon the very name of Newhall. One became a 
Pendergrubb and another a Bottleshock. And we 
see from the present reputation of those names, what 
excellence the Newhall blood imparted to its new 
connections. 

Dean Swift said that a man who caused two ears of 
corn or two blades of grass to grow wliere only one 
grew before, was more worthy of praise than the whole 
brood of politicians ; or something like that. And we 
say that if this be true, Mr. Newhall, our subject, was 
entitled to much praise ; for he caused many ears of 
corn and many blades of grass to grow where few 
grew before. The broad acres that he cleared and 
planted .were his incontrovertible vouchers for this. 

He was one of the first as well as best farmers in 



1-44: KOTABLE PEOPLE. 

the place ; had a comfortable house and good stock 
of pigs and poultr^ ; also two cows and some sheep. 
He likewise had a yoke of cattle and two horses at 
one time. His dwelling house was one of the best 
that had been erected since the Plantation began. Its 
frame was of oak, rough hewn, to be sure, but firm and 
durable. The thick, unplaned boards of the exterior, 
overlapped each other in a workman-like manner, ren- 
dering shingles or clapboards unnecessary. True, the 
weather soon warped them to a degree that made it 
necessary to use considerable seaweed and clay in 
filling the interstices to defend against the blasts of 
winter ; and this made it look a little like a beggar who 
bad run a race and strained open the scams of his 
garments : but then there were few eyes around that 
were accustomed to look upon more comely architec- 
ture. 

The habitation faced due south; a peculiarity of 
location quite common in those daj's. It enabled the 
occupant to secure the greatest benefit of the sun in 
winter, and to keep the time of day by marks on the 
window sill. The luxury of time pieces was then 
almost unknown ; and the sun and shepherd's clock 
had important duties to perform beyond those expect- 
ed of them in the present age, when their usefulness 
in horometry has been superseded by the ingenuity 
of our Connecticut brethren. Hour-glasses, however, 
were considerably used, being, indeed, a sort of neces- 
sity in cloudy weatlier; but they required much atten- 
tion. The peculiar location of the houses made them 
occasionally look awry as regarded the street. But 
the streets themselves, at that time, were very accom- 
modating, often changing their course for the sake of 
having a handsome house smile square upon them. 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 145 

There was a front yard to Mr. Newliall's house, 
enclosed by a fence of un trimmed cedar rails. And in 
that garden blocmed, in glorious state, divers holly- 
hocks, marigolds, and sunflowers, with the graceful 
pumpkin vine winding among them. And the useful 
artichoke, too, sent up its prim spires. Ambitious 
gourds, also, here and there wound fantastically up 
the friendly shrubs, ostentatiously displaying their 
vulgar fruit, as if exulting over the barren maples that 
shaded the highway. Skirting along the fence, were 
the wild rose and sweet-briar, the blue blossoming 
nightshade and red lily of the wood, all shyl}' approach- 
ing their cultivated kindred, even as the dusk}- maid 
of the forest approached her pale sister. 

This beautiful adjunct was well cared for. And it 
was delightful to see the smart little Huldah Arlington, 
the adopted daughter of Mr. Newhall, and the flower 
of his household, on a bright rosy morning working 
among the balmy assemblage with watering dipper 
and wooden spade, her glossy hair bound up by rich 
wampum strings, the gift of an Indian princess, and 
her bonny face radiant with health and intelligence. 
She was indeed a rare maid; accomplished in all the 
simple household duties of the day ; as able to spin, 
bake, brew or milk as any dame in the settlement. 

The house was two stories in front, and sloped reg- 
ularly down to one, in the rear. And the whole back 
part was devoted to kitchen purposes, including con- 
veniences for the spinning-wheel and weaving-frame, 
for candle dipping, soap making, and cloth dyeing. It 
was a glorious old kitchen for all domestic pui'poses, 
and a right jolly place for the noble winter gamo of 
blind miin's-buff. It was one of the very first houses 
built in that style, which, being so convenient, after-- 
G 10. 



14G NOTABLE PEOrLE. 

wards became quite common. True, it was rather 
easy for the mischievous Indians, who were always 
]')laying pranks, to scale the roof. And it is said that 
the very first morninj^- after Mr. Newhall took up his 
quarters thei"e, he was astonished, as he went to kindle 
a fire on the hearth to have a dead ral)l)it come pounce 
upon his head; and more astonislied still, on runninj:^ 
out, lo discover an array of forest dignitaries seated 
along- the ridge-pole, gravely snuffing in the morning 
air and expressing their approbation of the prospect 
by unearthly gi-tiiits. 

The large kitchen fire place, sufficient to accommo- 
date the four foot logs; with ample room to spit and 
snap upon the pondfi-ous andirons, and still leave 
space for wooden blocks in the corners; the capacious 
oven and 3'awning receptacle for the rapidly accumu- 
lating ashes', the ponderous trammels with enormous 
iron pots depending; the great dressers adorned with 
treiicliois and wooden bowls, with a powtev [flatter or 
two glistening behind; the high-back settle, destined, 
perhaps, to receive into its cosey embrace the fair IIul- 
dah and her happy lover, before the radiant fire, safe 
from the jealous blast essaying to work its way through 
some undiscovered crevice ; the leather covered grand- 
sirechair, Avhose hospitable arms would be capacious 
enough to embrace the same lovers, even were she 
enciri'led by the nine-foot crinoline expanse of this 
our day ; the long table, sustained under its load of 
wholesome cheer, by its innumerable legs; and the 
old family portraits all in painted plaster; — these, and 
many other luxurious ajipliances of the day were in the 
noble homestead of Farmer Newhall. 

And could we have looked in upon that worthy fam- 
ily as they were assembled on £ome winter night, 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 147 

we should surely have concluded tliat luxuries, such 
as are most zealously striven for in these days, are 
not prerequisites to happiness. There was the manly 
form of the household's head, his countenance browned 
b}^ toil, but beaming with benevolence ; his hands 
rough as the ancient oak, but always pliant to grasp 
the implement of useful labor and relaxing at the call 
of charity. What if he did wear a coarse gray round- 
about, greasy leather vest, and deer skin small-clothes? 
What if enormous shoes of rough hide, ornamented 
with huQ-e iron buckles did encase feet of such dimen- 
sions as a youthful elephant might envy ? And what if, 
as he drew off his old striped leggins, he did reveal 
gray stockings that had long been accustomed to the 
friendly offices of the darning-needle? — He was a man 
for all these. 

And there was the careful matron and the sweet 
Huldah nestling by her side, the same ruddy beams 
from the hearth lighting up the countonance of the one, 
calm and contented in her walk beyond the agitating 
scenes of youth, and that of the other, flushed in 
joyful hope on entering upon those eventfid scenes. 
There, also, sat the hired man and the sturdy boys, 
happy in their freedom from out-door duties, and ea- 
gerly pursuing their simple games. 

And seeing these, who would not have felt that there 
was a hearth, around which existed true happiness, 
though it were composed of unshapely stones laid in 
ungraceful forms? And who would have thought that 
the rough, unplastered walls, or the little windows of 
diminutive panes, so knotty, wavy and coarse, as even 
in full sunshine to distort every object abroad, were 
comfortless or unseemly ? And who, finally, would 
havG failed to realise that there are pictures of domes- 



148 KCTABLE PEOPLE. . 

tic life, always beautiful, however rude may be tbeir 
setting'? 

Mr. Newhall, the subject of this sketch, was tlie first 
person hereabouts, so far as we have learned, who 
undertook to raise bees. His apiary was picturesquely 
fiitnated in the capacious back yard, beneath the shelter 
of a large tree, which also threw its cooling shade upon 
the corn barn and a part of the swine's quarters. A 
rustic seat, erected against the gnarled trunk, furnished 
a convenient place for such visiters and idlers as had 
enough curiosity and not too much fear, to sit and 
watch the proceedings of the busy and buzzing colony. 
And at the same time their ears might be regaled by 
the music of the cloven footed songsters that now 
and then erected their graceful heads above the pen 
and gave specimens of their vocal accomplishments, 
illustrating their own appreciation of their skill by 
those wonderful whisks and twitches of the caudal 
appendage, that no creature on earth but a pig need 
ever hope to compass. The bees were successful in 
gathering honey, and their master was successful in 
selling it after robbing their hives. The heaviest part 
of the burden fell on the Avorkers; as is usually the 
case in this unequal world. Mr. Newhall prospered in 
this enterprise for three or four years. The honey , 
became quite celebrated for its purity and flavor; per- 
haps because so much of it was drawn from the flowers 
that Huldah cultivated. And at that time the vulgar 
notion prevailed that bees only could make honey; 
it being left to more modern genius to discover that 
it can be produced by mixing sugar and lard. Bees, 
perhaps, have cause to rejoice in the discovery, so far 
as the enjoyment of the products of their OAvn labor is 
concerned. But they have equal cause to lament that 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 149 

men will be guilty of nnblusliingly putting forth such 
abominable counterfeits in their name. 

Mr. Newhall's experience with bees came to an end in 
five or six years. As the worthy farmer was one day 
busy in his garden, bare headed and with his shirt 
sleeves rolled up, all of a sudden there came a terrible 
buzzing about his ears. And presently, without ask- 
ing leave, an immense swarm settled right down upon 
his head. As might be supposed, his terror was inde- 
scribable. And losing that presence of mind which is 
under all circumstances a man's best safeguard, he 
began exercising himself in a manner more becoming 
a maniac than a rational being. The bees, not fully 
comprehending his state of mind, became highly in- 
censed and began to show their anger in the way most 
natural to bees. They entirely forgot their allegiance, 
and resentment, or fun, for it is barely possible that 
they might have had the latter in view, became the 
order of the hour. At all events, the good man came 
out of the contest blind, smarting, and declaring ven- 
geance. As the readiest way of avoiding another 
such experience, he went forth, that very evening, 
armed with a platter of burning brimstone, with which 
he forever stifled their mischievous spirit. Afterwards, 
his enterprise began to develop in other channels of 
usefulness. 

One f ivorite object with Mr. Newhall was the build- 
ing of roads ; certainly a most valuable object among 
new settlements. His scene of action lay more par- 
ticularl}' in the woods. The great Dungeon Way, as 
it was anciently called, was a result of his enterprise. 
And Bonaparte was not more proud of the Simplon 
than he of that. It traversed the swamps and wound 
over the hills, and really was a work of great labor ; 



150 ROTABLE lEOFLE. 

uiiJ though rough aud obstructed by rocks, quag- 
mires and stumps, answered a good purpose. He also 
worked many a day with his cattle in removing ob- 
structions from the wnxd to Salem, which, ibr a long 
time, was choked by boulders and charred stumps. 
Some of the roads, too, in the principal parts of the 
settlement, received his attention; particularly what 
are now Boston, Federal, Market and Nahant streets 
of Lynn. He was a man extremely well fitted for the 
occasions of a new settlement, possessing good judg- 
ment, without the slightest fear of manual labor. 

But notwithstanding the efforts of Mr. Newhall, tho 
roads were not always found in good condition. Otlier 
settlers did not take so much interest as he, in the 
the matter; and he often in vain entreated for suitable 
pecuniary appropriations. By the records of the Quar- 
terly Court, June, 1G30, we find tlrat "Linn v/as fined 
10s for their bad wayes." It is hardly probable that 
this refers to moral ways. And applying it to the 
highways, it looks a little as if he had given the town 
a gentle stirring by slily making complaint to the 
Court. 

Mr; Newhall was a man of capacious mind. But his 
utterance was not sufli.cient for his ideas; a difficulty 
experienced by many. A full head and full flow of 
words are seldom found in one person. The reason is 
that the sluice exhausts the fount. But he often had 
ideas that no human language was competent to ex- 
press; unless, perhaps, some of those graceful Indian 
words which are long enough to fill half a line, might 
have answered the purpose. And in his lingual strug- 
gles he is represented to have really appeared as if 
his thoughts were endeavoring to work thcii- way 
through such learned words as quttianatamunach, 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 151 

kukketassutamoonk, nutahquontamoiinnonog, 
and sagkompagunaiiniiean, all of which may be 
found in Eliot's first translation of the Lord's Prayer. 
We do not know that there is any particular lesson to 
be drawn from this peculiarity of his, though it may 
not be inappropriate to remark that many people who 
have really meritorious ideas have such an infelicitous 
way of expressing them that they tail to secure due 
credit. And, on the other hand, some, by felicity of 
expression, do very much to conceal their mental 
poverty. This may be observed quite as often in 
books as in speech. Voltaire said that words were 
means by which to conceal thoughts. And with the 
artful they are extremely effectual means. A little 
careful practice will enable one to use words with 
wonderful skill in controverting sentiments that his 
conduct clearly supports. There are many, however, 
with heads in which pure wisdom is distilled, so very 
careless in managing the faucet, that most of the virtue 
is lost. 

There is certainly more damage done in tlie world 
by speaking than by silence. It is very often, for 
instance, that a politician destroys his influence and 
bars his success, by making speeches, even such as 
his partisans applaud. There is a silence, bold and 
stern, that overawes and scares ; and a silence, quiet 
and insinuating, that leads captive. Mr. Newhall had 
a crooked neighbor who well knew the value of this 
negative commodity. He had many selfish ends to 
answer, but was never known to press his claims by 
rhetorical persuasives. And he has been known to 
carry a point at town meeting, when every interest 
but his own was on the other side, by simply keeping 
silence j accompanying the silence, to be sure, by 



152 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

opportune shakings of his clenched fist, that tlie timid 
voters might be certified as to what they were to 
expect if they had the hardihood to act against his 
interest. And if we recollect aright the United States 
Senate was considerably disturbed, a few years since, 
by the attempt of a member to control sume movement 
by a similarly unparliamentary effort. In that case, 
however, there was no fistial display ; the honorable 
member, to use a popular phrase, only looked daggers. 
Some men attempt to influence others by appeals and 
assaults directed to their pli3'sical nature alone; others 
direct their efforts only to the moral nature. But the 
most successful are those who take judicious cogni- 
sance of both. 

One excellent habit of Mr. Newhall we desire most 
strongly to recommend. And that was the habit of 
making a note of every thing that it was important to 
recollect, instead of relying on memory, which is not 
trustworthy even in the best of people. And it is a 
singular fact that those who are most positive in their 
assertions based on memory alone, are generally the 
most unreliable. Indeed, positiveness, in most people, 
is only a way of fortifying uncertainty or lying. It is 
a great blemish in a historian to always write in the 
positive style. Perhaps the most serious defect of 
Macaulay is to be found in this particular. Our Sub- 
ject, being a man of probity and rigid carefulness, 
alwa^-s carried a crayon wherewith to note down all 
engagements, important occurrences, or duties. And 
the wear of the button-hole from which it depended 
showed that it was much in use. It would be inter- 
esting to avail ourselves of some of the records ho 
made, in bold strokes, such as: 

" Hunuie com to Widdo Alinn, 1 pownd & had." 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 153 

"Ponder more on y° godlie discourse of ]\r'" Whiting 
touching sanctification ; & Icerry hira a load of woode." 

" Kickt y° boy loe into y*^ brooke ffbr lyjng, sayjng 
y* Bridges should hnue iijs ffor corne ett by cowe, y^ 
agr'^m*' being iJ5. Did not mean to kick soe barde. 
Sorry iFor y° same." 

" Git M"^ Dexter putt in bilboes ffor propbane talke, 
sayjng dam y^ cowe. But see y" minister firste." 

" Go to y*-' tavern, to-night, & iff lohn Olliver is there 
drounke get him home. Give him pep^'m*. Take no 
flipp while there." 

" Pray ffor raine." 

'• x\sk M'" Whiting his mind on Indjan damnation, & 
ask hira if sinn is sinn whether or no — be itt from ig- 
norance or hardnesse. Praise his discourse att Good- 
man Hawkes his funerall." 

"Digg stiimpes, blast rockes, fill hollows and cutt 
bushes in Middle Roade." [Market street.] 

'* Tell William Turner y*^ he cann not haue Huldah, 
Saw him in y" tavern drinking flipp." 

" Pay y° D"^ for curing feever. Give pork & corne. 
Haff peck, or pownd each visit." 

" Gather harbes ffor wife to dry." 

" Advise M'" Dexter to eate no more clarams in 
Aug* and to drink no more blackberrie punch." 

" Deal with boy for evill speache. Pray for him. " 

'•' Visit Widdow Johnson and kerry meale and one 
of Huldah's pies. Also dow-nutts. Feed y® hungry. 
Give drinke to y® thirstie. Not fire water. Also 
kerry towe cloth enow ffor short gownd. Some of 
wife's best. Fight the Devill." 

"A jagg of y*' mapil woode to nayboure Burton, by 
sunn downe, 2d daie." 

" Strong driiike is a cuss. Also tobacka." 
G- 



154 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

But we must forbear making farther extract;', aiul 
say a word or two on another of our Subject'tj char- 
acteristics. 

Mr. Newliall was quite a pliilosoplier, and reflected 
elaborately on tlie great purposes of huuiaii life, and 
the events and pi'ovidences connected with it. Like 
all persons wlio exercise themselves in (hat way, he 
sometimes arrived at conclusions decidedly at variance 
with tlio commonly received o})inions of mankind. One 
theor}' that he held to with prodigious tenacity, may, 
perhaps, be called the theory of compensations. He 
conceived that in the great econom}-, every evil was 
balanced by a good ; that for avery tear there was a 
smile; for every birth a death; for every bitter a sweet; 
for every disease a remedy; and so on. Now if we look 
to a grand average of ever}- thing in creation, perhaps 
this view is not so untenable. But if we descend to 
particulars, probably not many would offer their own 
experience in support of it. Nevertheless, it has been 
declared a most comforting truth by a profound moral 
philosopher of the present day. Be all these tilings, 
however, as they may, Mr. Newhall derived much 
consolation from it, and diligently employed many an 
hour in the effort to search out the compensatory 
good for the evils and discomforts that beset his path. 
But we are persuaded that if as he left the world he 
reviewed the matter, he must have concluded that 
the place which he was leaving and that to which he 
was going have their interests connected in such a 
way that things cannot be entirely squared here. 

We feel compelled, in view of what has been said 
of the direct Newhall line, in this country, to at least 
allude to collateral lines that diverged in the old 
world. Very eminent and illustrious personages have 



THOMAS NEWHALL. 155 

proceeded from some of these. Among others might 
be named Archbishop Tillotson, Sir William Herschel 
and Mrs. Hemans ; Gen. Greene, Hannah Adams, John 
C. Calhoun and Mrs. Madison. And we cannot avoid 
adding that a sort of prescience possesses us, strongly 
pressing to the conclusion that but few more years are 
to roll away before a star of the first magnitude will 
ascend from the direct line. And we trust that the 
soil of the good old Third Plantation, on which so many 
Newlialls, descendants of our Subject, still continue to 
reside, will be the favored place of ascent. 

Almost any one who takes a retrospective glance, 
when about to quit the world, probably perceives that 
his life has been one of experiments rather than results ; 
and that he has been inconsistent in all his ways. It 
has been said that anxiety to appear consistent is evi- 
dence of a little mind ; a great soul having nothing to 
do with such a commodity. But if the inconsistent 
were always great, where should we look for the small? 
It may, indeed, be true that to cramp one's self for the 
mere purpose of appearing consistent, is like taking 
concern for a shadow ; but it is also true that every 
one realizes the unsafety of relying on a weathercock. 
While, therefore, truth and right principle should never 
be forced to yield to mere consistency, it becomes us 
to be most careful not to stray into patlis that truth 
and right principle may require us to abandon. 

And this leads us to remark that if there was any 
thing for which Mr. Newhall strove, through life, with 
most meritorious consistencyand unwavering constan- 
cy, it was to be in the right way in all his walks. Ho 
was extremely careful, in the most trivial as well as 
important matters, to have his face set aright before 
ho went a-head. By such a course, though he gained 



15G NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

the reputation, nmong' the impetuous, of moving slowly, 
he yet luoved surel}'. And he secured a very enviable 
reputation ; one which gave him a commanding influ- 
ence. 

And how great is the benefit of such an example to 
any community. Most men, being too indolent to 
reflect, submissively follow the lead of others. They 
do not proceed on principles of their own, and take 
too little care about the right or wrong of the course 
of their exemplars. Could such be induced alwa3's to 
follow the lead of one like Mr. Newhall, they might 
be safe. Still, those who are good from imitation 
rather ilmn principle, may not be entitled to the high- 
est ultimate rcAvard. 

This propensity to blindly follow a leader we find 
developed among men as prominently as among sheep. 
It is so in matters of the highest interest as well as the 
more common. Do we not find it in melancholy pro- 
minence even in religion? Who, in short, is disposed 
for a moment to dispute that the great bulk of mankind 
constantly act from habit or imitation rather than prin- 
ciple ? 

These few concluding reflections began with the 
intimation that the lives of most men Avere rather lives 
of experiments than results. But, turning to our 
worthy Subject, we are gratified by the sight of one 
who differed widely from most men in this respect. 
His life was rather one of results than experiments. 
And have we not named such good results of his 
earthly labors as will render his name more enduring 
than would a shaft of lying marble, as tall as Pompey's 
Pillar ? 



0][L.IV^ET=l PURCHIS. 

*' He f line would plant faire Libcrtie 

her flag vpon this soyl ; 
And manie, manie hours did bo 

iu her good service toyl." 

Among the notables who appeared in the Third 
Plantation at an early day was Oliver Pnrchis We 
find by the Colony Records that he was admitted a 
freeman in IGoG. He was born in 1G13, and appeared 
here while quite a young man. But it is not necessary 
for us to say much of his early life. Perhaps it is as 
well to go no farther back than the year IGGO, at which 
time he was first chosen Deputy, or Representative, to 
the General Court, He was then in the vigor of man- 
hood, being forty-seven years of age. 

The first few days of Mr. Purchis's experience in 
the hall of legislation, brought under his notice several 
abuses, as he deemed them; and he forthwith set 
about regulating public opinion, preparatory to re- 
forming them. He began b}"- circulating small printed 
leaves — for liis missives were not entitled to the dig- 
nified name of pamphlets — among those who could 
not enjoy the blessed privilege of being Avithin the 
sound of his voice; much as members of Congress now 
do with their speeches, though under the disadvantage 
of not being able to saddle the expense of the circula- 
tion on the country, through the franking privilege. 

(157) 



158 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

TliG first roformatoiy attempt of Mr. Purcliis was 
to abolish corporeal punishment in Harvard College. 
It may not bo generally known, at this day, that delin- 
quent students there Avere sometimes most unmerci- 
fully flagellated. He insisted that if the custom were 
not abolished, all the manliness would be finally whip- 
ped out of the colony. For little children, he said, it 
might do; but for those old enough to realise theim- 
portancc of learning, every blow was more damaging 
to the spirit than the back. He urged his points with 
strong arguments and grotesque diction, qualities that 
will draw attention to an}' writing. But his. success 
Avas not equal to his zeal. Many years rolled away 
before the Avails of old Har\^ard ceased to echo back 
the screams of students under the raw-hide dispensa- 
tions. Yet he had the satisfaction of receiving a vote 
of thanks from those then exposed to the evil; though 
that very vote, he afterwards learned, Avith sorrow, 
was tho cccasion of more pitiless Avhippi.jgs than had 
taken place for a twelve month before. Lucky it AA^as 
that the day of presentations had not arrived ; for had 
the poor students been guilty of such an indiscreet 
manifestation of their gratitude as to have i)resented 
him Avith a shiny pewter tankard, a handsome hour-glass 
or a glistening brass candlestick, the enraged professors 
Avould surely have broken their backs. 

In 1G86, Mr. Purchis Avas chosen Town Clerk. And 
from that time Ave find him quite conspicuous in public 
life. And his character and position at that period, 
60 far as Ave are able to delineate them from the mate- 
rials at hand, may be briefly stated in this Avise: Though 
a Avarm politician, he Avsis respected by his neighbors; 
a phonoiiuMion that can only be accounted for by sup- 
posing him possessed of some overawing traits of 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 159 

greatness. In liis domestic relations he was provident, 
pleasant and generous, though in public life exacting, 
enthusiastic and stubborn ; characteristics, by the way, 
not uncommonly meeting in the same individual, anom- 
alous as it may seem. His bright hazel eyes, as occa- 
sion demanded, were suffused with teai's of pity for 
the suffering and forlorn, or flashing with indignation 
on the oppressive and uncharitable. His sinewy arm 
was bared to protect the weak and to thrust the un- 
worthy from the seat of power. And to crown all, he 
was deeply pious and very judicious in his zealous 
efforts to promote the cause of religion. 

In 1G88, Mr. Purchis received a grievous mutilation 
of the left ear. And that organ was never restored to 
its original comeliness, thougli its usefulness was not 
greatly impaired. In its mutilated condition it went 
with him when he removed to Concord, in 1691. And 
when he went down to his peaceful grave in 1701, it 
was still with him, a memento of h;.; patriotic strife. 
The reader may desire to know how the injury occur- 
red. And as it was in some sense connected with 
import\nt political events, it may be useful to alight 
on the year 1G82. 

It was at that time, as the reader is well aware, 
that serious complaints were made in England against 
the colonial govennnents. Some were jealous of the 
prosperity of the settlers ; some had been unsuccessful 
aspirants for colonial honors; and so, among these 
and all enemies of the Charters enough was trumped 
up to obtain a hearing. 

In June, 1G83, Edward Randolph, then public accuser, 
exhibited against the Governor and Company of Mas- 
sachusetts, articles of high misdemeanor; wliereu{)on 
an inquiry was instituted. 



160 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

At the opening of the General Court called to sit in 
Boston, November 7, 1G83, the Governor gave notice 
that since the last sitting of the Court, Edward Ran- 
dolph had arrived, " & had presented him wth his 
maj'jes declaration & proclamation, wth the quo war- 
ranto }'* was isued out ag* the Gouno' & Company, &c." 

The King's proclamation graciously stated, among 
other things, tiiat though a " writ of quo warranto 
against the charter and priuiledgos claymed by the 
Gouno^ and Company of Massachusetts Bay in New 
England, by reason of some cijmes and misdemeano'"3 
by them comitted," had been issued, yet piivate inter- 
ests were not to be damaged ; and if before further 
prosecution upon the quo warranto they would render 
'•■full submission & entire resignation" to the royal 
pleasure, the Charter might be continued, Avith altera- 
tions for such and such purposes. And various other 
pleasant things did the Merry Monarch say to the 
misdemeaning colonists. 

These proceedings induced the colonists to look 
about them with very sharp eyes. Increase Mather, 
that great father in the New England Israel, declared 
that it was a plot to make shipwreck of their liberties; 
and the country, by complying, Avould act neither the 
part of good Christians nor true Englishmen. 

Things did not take a more favorable turn that year. 
And at Trinity Term, 1684, the High Court of Chan- 
cery gave judgment against the Massachusetts Gov- 
ernment and Company-, '•' that their letters patent and 
the enrolment thereof be cancelled." So died the 
Charter which had weathered so many storms and 
become so dear to the hearts of the people. 

At this juncture, Februar}', 1685, Charles himself 
was summoned under a quo warranto from the High 



OLIVER PURCHIS. IGl 

Court of Chancery above, by the grim messenger 
Death. And the next April, James II. was proclaimed 
at Boston. The Charter having been annulled, it be- 
came apparent that something must speedily lie done 
for the poor colonists. So in the same year, Joseph 
Dudle}' was appointed President of the Bay Colony, 
with authority to administer the government much 
after the old I'ashion, though without a revival of the 
Charter. This temporary government existed ibr a 
few months. And then came a stirring [leriod in 
colonial political history. 

Massachusetts was not alone in her hard fate. Other 
colonies had been served much in the same way. And 
thus stood the governments when in 1G8G the notoii- 
ous Sir Edmond Andros Avas commissioned for the 
arbitrary goverinnent of New York and New England. 
The infliction of such a government naturally created a 
great ferment. 

The neat little piece of legerdemain that was prac- 
ticed when Andros went to Hartford to receive the 
Connecticut Charter was very amusing to the world. 
The Assembly was in session. The discussion had 
been protracted, for Governor Treat had been talking 
against time, in the forlorn hope, perhaps, that a favor- 
ing Providence would in some way interpose at the 
last moment. The precious document had already 
been brought forth ; and there it lay upon the old 
oak table looking up from its winding-sheet of green 
baize with becoming resignation. 

Night had shut in, the candles were lighted, and it 
appeared as if prcpai-ations Avere made for holding a 
wake. The final moment for the yielding up of the 
charter ghost seemed to have arrived. Then, presto 1 
out went all the lighta ! With the greatest possible 



162 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

speed tl ley were relighted. But gas — we mean the 
illuminating material made from coal, not such as 
proceeds from the human head — and friction matchea 
not being then in use, a little more time was required 
tlian now would be for the same performance. And 
wlion tlie hall was again radiant with the beams of 
tallow-dips, behold, no Charter was to be found. It 
had escaped in some mysterious manner. Sir Edmond 
twitched up the green baize; it was not under the 
table. He gazed up to the ceiling; it was not flying 
about there. Governor Treat gaped and rubbed hi* 
knee buckles Avith the palms of his hands. The Secre- 
tarv puckered his mouth as if he had just bitten a crab 
apple, and looked bewildered. 

Hut all these did not bring back the Charter nor 
discover its hiding place. And the chagrined Andros 
was obliged to close his eyes that night unblessed by 
a sight of it. Nor did he ever see it again. He how.- 
ever took formal possession of the government, and 
annexed it to Massachusetts. But, strange as it may 
appear, the little joker afterwards, and just when it 
was most wanted to save the interests of the Connect- 
icut })Cople, turned out, safe and sound, from the hol- 
low of an old oak. Its long sleep had been refreshing, 
and it came forth with renewed energy. And that 
tree became much venerated in after years, in conse^ 
quence of the protection it had thus afforded to tha 
fugitive Charter. 

The Charter Oak weathered all the storms and revo- 
lutions even down to 1S56, when it yielded to the 
irreverent blast. After its prostration it afforded ma- 
terial enough for more canes than would be needed in 
giving every rogue in Christendom a caning that the. 
most sanguinary pedagogue now in. Connecticut would 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 163 

quiver to beliokl ; or, liad not the halcyon days of 
snuff taking gone by, to have made snuff-boxes enough 
to hold material sufficient for sneezing off the head 
of every man, woman and child in the land. Indeed it 
possessed, in no small degree, the extraordinaiy pro- 
perty of the famed pilgrim ship May Flower. And 
blessed was the Providence that so endowed that fa- 
vored ship, for without her wonderful endowment, 
she never could have brouglit over, on her renowned 
voyage, an amount of trumpery that would have loaded 
down half the British navy. 

It was after the accession of William and Mary, and 
the expulsion of Andi'os, that the Connecticut Charter 
came out so bi'ight from the old oak. Leading English 
lawyers gave opinions that the colon}'- had not sur- 
rendered her Charter; and as there was no judgment 
annulling it on record, it was not vacated. So the old 
government was continued. No judgment on record? 
It was oven so. But how there happen'3 to be a hiatus 
in the English State Records just about where a judg- 
ment would have been recorded, none can tell, though 
all can imagine. Connecticut generally seemed more 
successful in her political moves than her sister colo- 
nies. She appeared to be a sort of pet child. Perhaps 
she had some friend at court more powerful than they; 
or perhaps the extraordinary power of her soil to 
supply a certain tropical production, much used in 
spicing flip, had begun to develop itself, raising hopes 
that something still more valuable might spring from 
her wonderful bosom. 

To go back a little. Andros, when he arrived at 
Boston, in 168G, had with him a squad of soldiers, to 
enable him to enforce his measures. The number, 
however, v/as too small to create much fear. The 



164 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

professions of the new ruler were at first kind, and 
in Ills intercourse lie was affable and conciIiator3\ 
These things, however, had but little weight with the 
colonists, as they could not keep out of view the extent 
of his powers and the disabilities and inconveniences 
they labored under from the loss of their charters. 
Perhaps their feelings prompted them to meet Andros 
in an antagonistic attitude and to treat his advances 
in a manner calculated to aggravate his sensibilities; 
for he ceitainly was not altogether a savage as somo 
appear to imagine. 

Andros soon declared that the vacating of the Colo- 
nial Charters annulled real estate titles; and that an 
Indian deed was no better than the scratch of a bear's 
paw. If he had limited his meaning to mere looks, 
not many would have dissented from him. But when 
he insinuated that a bear's title was as good as an 
Indian's he was shamefully wrong. The people were 
required to take out new titles or grants. And for 
these, enormous fees were demanded. This proceed- 
intj; created much excitement. 

Andros also imposed serious restraints upon the 
press. Newspapers, it is true, were hardly known in 
the world at that time. There were none in America. 
The first one here, the Boston News Letter, did not 
come into existence till April 24, 1704. But littlo 
pamphlets and circulars were vehicles of thought; 
and the restraints were viewed as a great grievance, 
for people much love to behold their wise thoughts 
in print. And that love is not always to be deprecated. 
If the reader suspects that even the book now in his 
hand was conceived in some such spirit, we shall not 
attempt to combat his innocent suspicion. 

Sir Edraond also interfered to some extent with tho 



OLIVER PURCHI3. 165 

religious observances; among other things, prohibiting 
public Thanksgiving without a royal order. This was 
certainly touching our fathers in a tender point. And 
besides the loss of the gastronomic gratifications at- 
tending tiie loved New England institution, the absurd- 
ity of denying men the privilege of giving thanks to 
God at any time they might desire, was well calculated 
to excite minds disciplined as were those in this reli- 
gious domain ; particularly as there can be but remote 
danger that people Avill ever l)e too forward in oftering 
thanks to their divine Benefactor. 

This brings to mind a proposition made at one of 
the religious anniversary meetings at Boston, in 1859. 
It was, to commence efforts for the discontinuance of 
our good old annual Thanksgiving. But it grated hard; 
for people venerate institutions that were dear to their 
fathers; especially when they bring luscious banquets 
to their own tables. And the old "Election," which 
was abolished in 1830, after having given joy to young 
and old hearts for about two hundred 3'ears, had hardly, 
as it were, ceased to be wept over. The reason given 
for the desire to discontinue Thanksgiving was that it 
had come to be loosely observed. But to abofish it for 
that would seem to be a weakness. Why not abolish 
Sunday, for the same reason ? Rather, why not endea- 
vor to restore the old way? 

This leads us to remind the reader that the Puritans 
here, early undertook to abolish the observance of 
Christmas. In 1651 an act was passed, ordering that 
" whoever shall be found observing any such day as 
Christmas or the like, either by forbearing labor, feast- 
ing, or any other way upon any such account as 
aforesaid, every such person so offending shall pay for 
every such cffence five shillings as a fine to the coun- 



16G NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

ty." The pretence was to get rid of the evils attending 
the observance ; but it has been thought that tlie real 
object was to show spite towards the Enghsh church, 
which regarded that day as the most note wurtiiy in 
the whole calendar. The Fui-itans made many such 
laws and were fond of attaching to them an array of 
whereases, which often raised a fog; though through 
it the real purpose might sometimes be readily dis- 
cerned. One should always beware of whereases, 
however. There is mischief in the mist; excepting, 
perhaps, when they lead off in a mittimus. In that 
case it is sufficiently plain what they point to. At all 
events there is one close at hand to explain. 

Under the better spirit of the present age Christmas 
has come to be quite generally observed by most 
denominations. And the Massachusetts Legislature in 
1856 passed a law establishing it as a holiday, whereon 
the General Court and the courts of law should not 
sit, and the public offices should be closed. 

Various oppressive burdens besides those named, 
were imposed, and irrational requisitions made, by the 
Andros government, to which it is not necessary for 
our purpose, to ajlude. And numerous were the im- 
prisonments made of those who refused to comply 
with the tyrannical demands. Perhaps, however, no- 
thing that the new Governor did. created such deter- 
mined opposition as the ground he took in regard to 
real estate titles. This touched the colonists in their 
homes and their pockets. On principles they might 
not have been so inflamed. 

And this brings us back to Mr. Purchis — or Pur- 
chase, or Purchiss, as it is variously spelled on the 
Colony Records — with his mutilated ear. 

Edward Randolph, before named, who was now Sec- 



OLIVER PUPvCHIS. 167 

retaiy to Andros, Laving a little spare time, set about 
looking up a pleasant spot whereon, perhaps, to locate. 
And presently his beautiful light gray eyes -were fixed 
admiringly on Nahant. This is sufficient evidence 
that he was a man of taste ; but unfortunately men of 
taste are not always men of principle. He spent a 
day in pleasant rambles on the peninsula, with sundry 
dignitaries of the town. He feasted his eyes upon the 
charming views and his palate on the piscatory ban- 
quet liberall}' spread upon the rocks, under the careful 
episcopy of Mr. Purchis, in the vicinity of Cold Spring. 
He quaffed the invigorating breeze, and, Avith a little 
stimulating addition, the equally invigorating waters 
of the spring. 

But it turned out that from quaffing one or the 
other, Mr. Randolph, during the afternoon, became a 
little jolly, as they used to say. Perhaps it was the 
delightful air that so exhilerated him. Any way, he 
became quite antic, and talked and acted in a manner 
more comical than becoming in one who had held the 
high office of Public Accuser, in England. Presently he 
insisted that Mr. Purchis should dance with him, on a 
flat rock, to which he pointed, in very dangerous prox- 
imity to the sea. Now Mr. Purchis Avould as soon 
have thought of hanging himself as dancing, at any 
time. And the probability of losing his life would 
have been no greater under the process of hanging, 
than under terpsichorean exercises in a place so dan- 
gerous. He promptly made known to the Secretary 
his entire unwillingness to engage in any such per- 
formance. This caused the wind to instantly veer with 
the merry official. He now insisted upon having a 
fight with Mr. Purchis; and divested himself of his 
outer garment in preparation. But fighting was quite 



iG8 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

as little to the taste of our Subject as dancing; and 
he peremptorily declined the challenge. This so in- 
flamed the impatient champion that he declared his 
determination to whip somebody, before he resumed 
his coat. 

Witliout uttering another word, Randolpli made a 
pass at Mr. Purchis, which, had it fulfilled its design, 
might have rendered it necessary for the town to 
choose a new Clerk. But as it was, the wary man just 
stopped aside, and away went Randolph over the cliff 
into the sea. The whole company instantly rushed 
down to the rocks that jutted into the surge, and did 
their utmost to save him. A repentant wave, v.diich 
had borne him a short distance into the offing imme- 
diately on his descent, and there amused itself with 
his stuggles, presently thought best to bear him back 
for a gentle chafing against the rocks. And while ho 
was undergoing that discipline, they were able to seize 
him by his floating hair and thus disappoint the sea 
of its prey. 

And wo cannot avoid the reflection that had not Mr. 
Purchis and his companions been so fortunate as to 
rescue Randolpl), the wliole course of poHtical events 
in New England and New Yoi-k would probably have 
been changed ; for it is evident that he was to Andros 
a sort of evil right hand. 

Randolph came from his experience in the deep but 
little bruised, and on the whole rather relVeslied. He 
was very cordial in his expressions of gratitude for the 
deliverance. And they were surprised at his sobriety 
and good manners during the rest of their stay. 

But how astonished were the entertainers of Mr. 
Rjindolph, soon after, to learn that he had petitioned 
Andros to grant the whole of Nahant to him. This 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 169 

was repaying their kind attentions with a vengeance. 
The matter iunnediately assumed a very serious aspect, 
as it bei^ame apparent that Andros viewed the petition 
with favor. Tlie town was notified, and informed that 
they could have a hearing. This was in 1G88. A 
town meeting was forthwith held and a committee 
chosen to act in the strait. One of the connnittee was 
Mr. Purchis : and a better man could not have been 
selected. At this time, as before intimated, he was 
Town Clerk. 

The whole population became excited. There was 
much more scolding, and, we fear, swearing, than there 
was during the great Shoemakers' Strike in 18G0. Mr. 
Shepard, the minister, entered zealously into the affair, 
as well in tho pulpit as out. He even appears to have 
assumed a sort of leadership; but for such a position 
it occurs to us he was not well fitted. Calm perse- 
verance would be far better in such an emergency than 
rampant zeal. 

During the excitement Mr. Randolph rode out to 
Lynn, bringing various letters in his pocket and a 
smile on his countenance. After parleying and pass- 
ing compliments for an hour or two, it was determined 
to hold a meeting, at the house of Mr. Purchis, that 
very af'ternoon, to talk over matters. And by the time 
appointed, some half a dozen of the principal men had 
assembled. 

Randolph had now delivered all his letters and dis- 
pensed with his smile. And furthermore, he appeared 
impatient !ind assuming at the meeting. Perhaps he 
mistook that as the best aspect under which to open 
the talk. For an hour or more he was the talker 
and they were the thinkers; that is, if silence is evi- 
dence of thought; it certainly being the only evidence 

ii 



170 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

we Iiave, in many grave cases. We know Ihat what 
Mr. C.illioiin dononiinatcd a masterly inactivity, ui'tun 
accomplishes a great deal. And so does a masterly 
silence. But yet people are sometimes inactive from 
natural indolence, and silent from mcn(al penury. So 
a judgment resting on such ground may not always be 
sure. 

Randolph soon had the mortification to discover 
that his eloquence, instead of falling like a shower of 
millstones on their heads, was more like a shower of 
feathei's falling on millstones. They would assent to 
nothhig proposed by him, and were as immovable as 
the rocks on which they had eaten their chowder at 
Nahant. And very naturally his anger began to kindle. 
Presently he so fir forgot himself as to hurl epithets 
of a quality by no means the most select at the head8 
of those around him. Mr. Purchis was astounded by 
a terrific one directed at him. And its flight taking 
place in his own house, his own castle, he felt called 
upon to assume a clearly defined position ; for having 
once heard Mr. Shepard lead Magna Chartn, in Latin, 
he felt his individuality, his rights and his responsi- 
bilities. 

The others, still preserving their masterly silence, 
Mr. Purchis, after fidgeting a little, got upon his iect, 
and when fliiily poised, with his throat cleared and his 
nose wiped, he opened a battery on poor Randolph, 
who stood upon the other side of the ten-legged table, 
that, to use a very vulgar expression, made the feath- 
ers fly. His arguments and denunciations fell upon 
that partially bald head like so many fifty-sixes. The 
Secretary was in his turn astounded. He did not know 
what to make of it. He threw up his chin, puckered 
his mouth, grasped his left arm as if a shot had struck 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 171 

it, and in various ways manifested great perturbation. 
But the storm did not abate. 

Presently Mr. Purchis surprised himself as well as 
all the others by a furious launch at the great Sir 
Edmond. This afforded a propitious opportunity for 
Randolph greatly to magnify himself in the eyes of 
bis absent superior. To defend an absent friend is 
alwaj-s an act worthy of gratitude. And the infrc- 
quency of so deserving an act renders it the more 
conspicuous. Randolph instantly perceived his chance, 
and, availing himself of a lull in the rhetorical tor- 
nado raised by the other, replied in a way that one 
rascal might be expected to adopt in defence of a 
brother rascal. 

For some minutes Randolph spoke in a manner 
that would not only have crushed to the earth those 
present, but the whole town, yea, and the whole colony 
with them, had there been power in the human voice 
to do it. Beautiful Nahant was probably looming up 
inspiringly before his mental vision. There is no 
stronger incentive to eloquence, after all, than the 
expectation of a commensurate reward. We are sure 
that it is so at the bar, and beg leave modestly to 
ask if appearances do not indicate that it is likewise 
so in the pulpit. 

Simple words not being competent to effect his 
purpose at once, Randolph resorted to gestures. And 
these he adopted in threatening variety. But as yet, 
the table, being between them, was the greatest suf- 
ferer, meeting the common fate of go-betweens. It 
danced and creaked under the inflictions; but its antics 
and complaints were unheeded. All this was perhaps 
very well as a finality, but as a prelude, the same can 
hardly be said of it. 



172 NOTABLE PEOrLE. 

Another Rioment, and with startling suddenness the 
demure vv'itResses of the scene were brought to their 
feet by a horrid shriek from the champion of their 
cause, hastily followed b}^ Randolph's yelliug out, that 
the ears of his bold antagonist should pay the forfeit 
of the slanders of his tongue. 

The fact wa>:, the insanely excited Randolph liad, 
with the rapidity of lightning, whipped a little knife 
from his pocket, and actually almost severed his antag- 
onist's left car from his head. The blood ran in a 
stream, and the poor man danced round as if he were 
bare-footod on hot iron. His friends instantly gathered 
around him, and in the confusion Randolph hastily 
retired, not even bidding them good-bye. Without 
one moment of fond lingering to contemplate the 
beauties of the improved landscape, or to reflect upon 
the result of the friendly conference, he mounted his 
horse and rode rapidly away, taking a last look at 
Nahant, as it lay in the misty distance, over his left 
shoulder. 

Randolph never became the owner of Nahant. 

And the reign of Andros soon terminated. 

It was early in 1G89 that the colonists received intel- 
ligence of the invasion of England by William, Prince 
of Orange, for the purpose of dethroning James, who, 
aside from eveiy other consideration had shown him- 
self entirely unfit for his position. On receiving the 
news, the people were elated beyond measure, and 
many from the country rushed to Boston. There they 
immediately united with the uprising citizens, seized 
Andres, Randolph, and of their most obnoxious coadju- 
tors forty or more and imprisoned them. 

The peo])lo from the countr}* are stated to havo 
been headed by Mr. Shepard the Lynn minister. And 



OLIVER puncHis. 173 

we are inclined to think that on that occiislon lie did 
not manifest a particularly meek and lowly spirit, for 
a writer of tliat period says, ''the country'' came in 
at about eleven o'clock, 'Mieaded by one Sliepard, 
teacher of Lynn, who were like so many wild bears; 
and the leader, mad with passion, more savage than any 
of his followers." And the writer adds that "All the 
cry was for the Governor and Mr. Randolph." Mr. 
Purchis and two or three of the dignitaries who had 
met the Secretary at his house, and who had eaten and 
drank with him at Nahant on the exciting occasion 
before alluded to, Avere there, supporting Mr. Shepard, 
and it was quite natural that the cry should be for Mr. 
Randolph as well as the Governor. And had Mr. Ran- 
dolph been lianded over to the disposal of ]\fi'. Purchis, 
nothing but the great Jmmanity of the latter would 
have saved him from a worse mutilation than a half 
severed ear. 

After the Andres government had been thus disposed 
of, the former niagistrates were reinstated to act as a 
council of safety till authentic information could be 
received from England. Sir Edmond and some of his 
right hand men were kept securely, excepting for a 
brief interval of escape to Rhode Island, until they 
were ordered home for trial. 

But every thing remained in a turbulent and doubt- 
ful state till the tidings arrived that William and Mary 
were firmly seated on the throne. Great rejoicing 
followed. 

One of the first things that Mr. Purchis did was to 
illuminate his house. And he came near being a seri- 
ous loser by his patriotic display ; for one of the un- 
watched tallow candles in the garret window^ undertook 
to play some pranks with a bunch of pennyroyal that 



174 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

hung near, which flared up, and indignantly blazed 
away upon some innocent catnip. And then the calnip 
must needs run a fiery race upon a basket of mullen 
leaves. And finally, the spread of the contagion was 
not arrested till half the roof was burned. 

The people of the Bay Colony were now zealous in 
their endeavors for the revival of the old Charter or 
the grant of a new one. The question of the Charters 
was not, however, immediately acted on. But autho- 
rity was given to the council to administer the govern- 
ment, till further directions, according to the old 
Charter. 

That memorable year of smiles and tears, of mystery 
and sightless zeal, 1692, brought a new Charter for 
Massachusetts, and it included Plymouth, Maine, and 
other territory. The Governors under this Charter 
were appointed by the Crown. And Sir William 
Phipp was the first Governor. 

Ani] !M3w a iicw era, as it were, commenced in New 
England. A fresh spirit seemed to be awakened, and 
ncAV and enl;\rged views began to prevail. The people 
conceived that they had other great problems to work 
out than those of a strictly religions character; that 
temporal interests of leading importance in the wide 
world demanded their attention; that commerce should 
be extended, the arts encouraged. Those branches of 
education more directly bearing on the business of the 
world began to receive greater care. And the })res9 
was looked upon as an engine more worthy of l»eing 
secured for the support of justice in the ever occurring 
conflicts for popular rights. 

We have spoken of Mr. Pnrchis as being a Repre- 
sentalivc to the General Court as early as IGGO. In 
1668 he was chosen County Commissioner. He was 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 175 

several years Town Clerk. And at the Conrt of Elec- 
tions held at Boston, in May, 1G85, lie was elected to 
the dignified office of Assistant; but the record adds 
that ho " declined his oatli." Now all these things 
show (hat he was a man for whom the community had 
great respect, and in whose judgment and fidelity they 
relied. And his conduct in the knotty matter of the 
Randolph petition showed that he was by no means 
deficient in courage. 

And now Mr. Purchis must be allowed to prance 
before the reader for a moment in quite a different 
character. And we must go back some twenty years, 
for in this sketch Ave have chosen rather to preserve 
unity in subject matter than chronological order. 

In 1GC5 an order was made for the promulgation of 
a certain declaration under this title: *' A declaration 
by the General Court of his majestjes colony of the 
Massachusets Bay in New England." With the decla- 
ration itself the reader would not be intt-rested. But 
with another order, that followed, we are certain that 
the case would be different. It was this: " And it is 
hereby ordered & desired that the declaration shall h& 
published by M"" Oliuer Purchis on horse backe, by 
sound of trumpet, & that Thomas Bligh, the trumpeter, 
& Marshall Richard Wajte accom{iany him, & y* in tho 
close he say, wth an audible vojce, 'God saue the 
king.' " Now it was no hardship for Mr. Purchis to 
declare the matter of the order; nor was it probably 
any hardshij) to have his trumpet blown, either literally 
or metnphorically. But as to the closing supplicatory 
ejaculation, that was not quite so easily disposed of. 
There is, however, always some back door of escape 
from the performance of an unpleasant duty. He was 
no partisan of Charles, having many a time made him- 



176 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

self lioars3 by Iinzzaing for Cromwell niid tlio Common- 
wealth. And, providentially, on tlie vcr}' ihy when 
he was to perform his duty, a powerful cou,^h came fo 
his rescue; and what was a little remarkable in its 
operation, a spell was sure to seize him, just as he was 
about to pronounce the last word. So, during the 
explosion, something would gurgle out, that might 
have been interpreted king, curse, or commonwealth — 
whichever the hearer might most strongly desire to 
have saved. 

Mr. Pnrchis received many compliments for his dig- 
nified manner and stentorian enunciation, as well as 
much S3'mpathy on account of liis toimeiiling cough. 
One benevolent dame followed him i'ov a quarter of a 
mile, with her tow cloth apron thrown over her head, 
to recommend a curative syrup that eho hcid lately 
concocted, and to offer him a present of some if he 
would call on his return. And not the least remarka- 
ble thing about the cough was that it disappeared as 
suddenly as it came. Immediately on his return from 
his official airing, his lungs were at rest; and that 
even without a resort to the syrup. 

We have just alluded to Mr. Purchis's attachment to 
the Commonwealth. And in connection with that 
point in his character it seems appropriate to relate 
an occurrence that took place as earl}' as 1G60, and 
which was greatly approved of by his paliiolic towns- 
men. By very shrcAvd m;niagement he sr.ved from 
arrest an eminent fugitive who sought shelter beneath 
his roof. 

On a cold evening in the winter of that year, just as 
Mr. Pnrchis had drawn up his great flag-bottomed 
chair in })reparation for partaking of his evening meal, 
which was already smoking on the table, he was a little 



OLIVER PURCHIS. • 177 

disturbed by a loud rap at the door. He hastened to 
obey the summons, and found upon the step a venerable 
looking stranger. His hair fell in silvery curls over the 
stiff collar of his coat, and his three cornered hat was 
brought low upon his head, as well, apparently, for the 
purpose of concealing his countenance as protecting 
his ears from the chill wind. He stood erect, and his 
whole presence was commanding. His dress was of 
the finer kind of cloth, and though plain, exhibited no 
eign of poverty in the wearer, save that an outer gar- 
ment, of which he was destitute, would have been 
desirable on so cold a night. He carried a formidable 
Btaff, though it did not seem necessary for his support. 

As the stranger manifested considerable impatience 
to be within doors, and cast hasty and anxious glances 
up and down the street, Mr. Purchis began to have his 
suspicions aroused, and so placed himself in the door- 
way as if taking a position to defend the castle. Per- 
ceiving this, the man smiled, and looking the other 
direct!}" in tlie eye, said a few words, in a low tone. 
But those words were talismanic. The door instantly 
flew wide open, and the brawny arm of the lord of 
the mansion was thrown around the stranger, who 
was drawn with irresistible force into the spacious 
hall. Then the door was shut and securely barred. 
And then and there, in that cold, dark hall, might have 
been heard the echoing emphasis with which the ex- 
pansive hands of the patriotic townsman were brought 
together, and his stentorian voice exclaiming: 

" God-a-man ! Thou art welcome ! Thou shalt lodge 
under my roof! Thou shalt eat of my bread, and be 
warmed by my fire ! The Devil hath set snares and 
traps for thee, but we will deliver thee out of them I 
Go to, thou damned ones ! " 

H* 12 



178 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Then it was agreed, in whispers, that the stranger 
should be known as John Rivers, a traveler, while he 
remained. This settled, Mr. Purchis grasped the oth- 
er's hand with a fervor that admitted of no doubt of 
his sincerity, and led him into the great kitchen. With- 
out a formal introduction he whispered a few words to 
the older persons, and for the ears of the little pitchers 
had something to say in more audible tones about 
friend Rivers, the traveler, who perhaps might tell 
them of his wonderful adventures. 

They all sat down to the well supplied board, and 
the stranger, seeming to forget his fatigues and dan- 
gers, conversed with a fieedom and pleasaiitry that 
charmed them all. Even the J'oung folk quite forgot 
their sweet cakes in his sweeter words. 

After supper, Mr. Purchis and the new comer with- 
drew to the little back room that was warmed by the 
kitchen fire, and there, by the dim light of an aromatic 
bayberry candle, remained for an hour or more in 
earnest conversation. Occasionally the excited set- 
tler's hands would be brought together with terrific 
force, and he would let down a withering denunci- 
ation upon the heads of the " hunting devils." 

But the conversation ended, and Mr. Purchis came 
out of the room leaving the other there with the candle 
and a book. Without saying a word he put on his 
great fox skin overcoat and grotesque fur cap, and 
strode down to the principal store in the village, 
where he very diligently employed himself for an 
hour or two in picking up all the news there was 
afloat, all the while exercising the utmost discretion 
in concealing all knowledge of the precious life prp- 
tected by his roof Digesting Avhat ho had learned, 
on the way home, by the time he reached his house, 



OLIVER PURCHI3. 179 

he had become a little agitated, but concealed his state 
of mind as much as possible. He had another piivato 
interview with the stranger, and at its close conducted 
him to the little corner chamber in which he was to 
lodge, and which was directly over his own bed-room. 
After bidding him a good night he carefully closed 
the door, and as he was doing so, in an emphatic whis- 
per, charged him if he heard a certain noise in the room 
beneath, which had been agreed on as a signal of dan- 
ger, to start with the utmost speed, and to be sure 
that he took the right road. 

At a seasonable hour the whole household retired, 
and presently all was still. But Mr. Purchis was 
watchful and apprehensive. 

About midnight, as the moon was near setting, 
two or three individuals, closely muffled, made their 
appearance, and concealing themselves in the shadow 
of the house, close to the window of the very room in 
which Mr. Purchis was lying, not, however, sleeping, 
held a short conference, speaking in low tones. But 
there happened to be a broken pane near the head of 
the bed, and it was not difficult for the one reposing 
there, with his quickened senses, to distinguish some 
parts of the conversation. Presently they turned the 
corner of the house and loudly rapped at the door. 

Hardly had the rap been given, when Mr. Purchis 
slipped from his bed and silently raised the window. 
Then he seized the little table, and with all his might 
dashed it against the wainscoting. This done, he 
jumped out of the window, and at the top of his speed 
rushed up the street. The villains at the door cnught 
sight of him, as he designed they should, and gave 
chase. It was a spirited race. 

Mr. Purchis had not a shred of clothes on, with the 



180 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

exception of his short under garment, his night-cap 
and shoes. His long legs, disencumbered as they 
were, stood him in good stead, and he easily distanced 
his pursuers. Nevertheless, he occasionally slackened 
his pace, lest they should give over in despair. The 
gallant race was continued for nearly two miles, he, 
conscious of his superior powers of foot, keeping just 
within a tantalising distance ahead. 

By this time, however, he began to fail a little in 
wind, and a range of friendly pines whispering their 
willingness to afford him shelter, he dodged into cover. 

The moon went down, and he had no difficulty in 
making a detour and reaching his home in good time, 
all of a fine glow from his healthful exercise. But 
what was most satisfactory, his venerable lodger had 
in the mean time escaped, and was at that moment, 
no doubt, warm in bed at his new retreat. And where 
that was, our hero knew well enough, for he was not 
absent so long in the evening for nothing; nor was 
his last conference with the stranger without a pur- 
pose. 

That stranger was Goff the Regicide. 

Whally and Goff, as is well known, reached Boston 
about the middle of the year 16G0, and remained dodg- 
ing around there, and in the vicinity, mostly at Cam- 
bridge, for eight or nine months, or until they got off 
to New Haven. During that time they had many hair- 
breadth escapes, for there were numerous rascals, who, 
under pretense of loyalty, but really to obtain such 
rewards as they might, were ready like hounds to hunt 
the poor Judges, and if possible deliver them into 
hands that would delight in shedding their blood. It 
appears that on the day when Goff so suddenly ap- 
peared at Lynn, he had narrowly escaped capture, and 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 181 

had made his way on foot from Cambridge. And hh 
uneasiness on reaching the house of Mr. Purchis is 
accounted for by his apprehension that he was pur- 
sued. 

And now a few more words regarding the legislative 
career of Mr. Purchis. At a General Court held in 
Boston, in May, 1685, he, with seven other wise men, 
was appointed " to revise the laws and especially such 
as have binn made since the last comittee had the 
pervsall and revisall of the body of them, and to make 
a returne at the next Court of Election." So it seems 
he was called to lay " his huge paw on the statute 
book," to use the expressive phrase of the immortal 
Someone, that fell so movingly on the sensitive ears of 
the politicians in the exciting presidential campaign of 
1840. 

Massachusetts has always had a propensity to keep 
revising her statutes ; and, we might add, a propensity 
always to keep them in a state to need revising. Over 
legislation has been her weakness. She has been al- 
most smothered under her laws. And had it not been 
for the safety valve afforded by the power of one Legis- 
lature to undo what its predecessors had done, it seems 
as if she must have breathed her last long ago. 

In 1860 another revision was published. And it is 
hoped that it may fare better than its predecessors, 
retaining its identity a little longer. The hope, indeed, 
resolves itself into expectation, in view of the fixct that 
the members of the Legislature are now paid the round 
Bura of three hundred dollars for the whole session, be 
it long or short, instead of so much a day, with the 
privilege of extending the session to any length. The 
new arrangement, which went into operation in 1858 
has already had a wonderful effect in shortening the 



182 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

period of their labors. We have been particular in 
mentiouing this, on account of the useful lesson in- 
volved. 

One other thing: By referring back it will be found 
that Mr. Piirchis and his coadjutors were required to 
make return to the next Court. This was having the 
thing done up in time. Those employed on the 1860 
revision occupied some five years. It may be said 
that their labors were great. But that may possibly 
be met by the reply that the same could not be said of 
their industry. 

But revising commissioners, before our day, have 
been caught lagging. The records of a General Court 
held as early as 1640, contain this : " Whereas, a brevi- 
ate of lawes was formerly sent fourth to bee considered 
by the elders of the churches & other freemen of this 
comon welth, it is now desired that they will endevor 
to ripen their thoughts & counsells about the same by 
the Generall Court in the next 8th mo." That, how- 
ever, does not appear to have been, strictly speaking, 
a revision. But it is worth mentioning, on account of 
what is disclosed regarding the deference paid to the 
elders of the churches in forming the laws. From the 
little heed taken of that class now-a-days, in such mat- 
ters, one would imagine that the element they repre- 
sent was not considered of much account in law 
making. 

The first revision of the statutes, under the consti- 
tution, was made in 1822; the next in 1830. And 
every year since, the Legislature has inflicted such an 
avalanche of new laws, and made so many alterations 
in the old ones, that the lawyers have been obh'ged 
to be more industrious than was ever before charac- 
teristic of the profession, to keep up in their reading. 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 183 

And we are not at all surprised that some have been 
driven to suicide. Dr. Johnson declared that he could 
always discover when an author had amended his 
writing, it being impossible to avoid leaving imperfect 
joints. But in our amended laws, it would require 
great sagacity to discern which is patch and which 
original. 

And the Bay State legislatures have certainly, during 
the last few years, made unmerciful havoc with old 
principles. Perhaps in no particular has there been 
more upheaving than in what relates to the connubial 
connection. The tendency of our legislation, and the 
same may be said of legislation in other states, has been 
to make separate, if, indeed, not antagonistic, the in- 
terests of husband and wife, in regard to property. 
It can by no means now be said that husband and wife 
are one in law. And it must necessarily follow, that 
if all other interests are made separate, the connection 
itself will by the very force of circumstances, be made 
easy of severance. If this thing goes on for many 
years, gaining as it has of late, the marriage relation 
will come to be regarded both popularly and legally 
as a mere civil contract capable of being dissolved 
at any time by consent of the parties themselves — 
instead of a status, the continuance of which should 
not be determined against the interests of society at 
large. We very much question whether the tendency 
of these things is not to disturb the peace of families 
without rendering an equivalent. Indeed, can any 
thing compensate for the destruction of domestic 
peace ? The union of husband and wife should be 
as perfect as possible. And the declaration of the 
elegant writer and sound moralist of a centurj'^ and a 
half ago, that in his opinion separate purses between 



184 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

husband and wife are as unnatural as separate beds, 
might be profitably heeded. 

Legislatures have great power, and we often see that 
they not only exercise what they have, tyrannically, 
but assume what they do not possess. Jefferson said, 
in a letter to Madison, as early as 1789, that the exec- 
utive power of our government was not alone to be 
feared ; that the tyranny of the legislature was then 
most to be feared and would continue so for many 
years. And the truth involved in this is conspicuous 
in our day. 

The assertion that every man who is fond of fun is 
a good man, may not be true. But it is true that 
every good man is fond of fun. Fun, however, should 
not so monopolise our being as to crowd out all other 
virtues, as sometimes comes near being the case. In- 
deed it often appears with an individual as if he were 
80 crammed with this or that particular excellence 
that no room was left for any other ; much as it might 
be with a boy when half through his Thanksgiving 
dinner. 

Mr. Purchis had a well balanced fondness for fun, 
and as he loved it in moderation, so he loved it in 
purity. Now there is enough of the commodity in the 
world, and any one who is disposed to search a little 
can find it in plenty. But Mr. Purchis did not need to 
spend much of his valuable time in the search, for he 
knew just where to look for it. He was favored above 
that numerous class who are doomed to spend one 
half of their lives in unsuccessfully searching for the 
blessing named, or some other, and occupy the other 
half in lamenting that they cannot find it. 

The General Court was the great fountain of fun 
from which Mr. Purchis drew abundant supplies. And 



OLIVER PURCHIS. 185 

the inspiration thus received did not subside during 
his life. Many a winter evening did he spend, when 
gray headed, in entertaining his neighbors with reci- 
tals of the funny occurrences there while he graced 
one of the seats. It is astonishing how long, in most 
memories, such things will retain a place, after more 
weighty matters have faded away. 

He became quite noted for his narrations, and being 
always sure to attach some excellent moral to them, 
was regarded as a sort of village Gamaliel. The 
Bchoolmaster frequently urged him into school, to 
instruct the little ones from his stores of wisdom. 
And he never arose to deliver his talk, as he modestly 
termed it, without the little eyes sparkling and the 
little ears erecting. 

But it would not perhaps be desirable to extend this 
Bketch, though other interesting events in the life of 
Mr. Purcliis press forward for notice. It however 
gives us great pleasure to dwell on such a character, 
a character wherein the merits so far transcend the 
failings. It is to such as he that we are indebted for 
the noble foundations of our greatness and prosperity. 
And let no one who values the blessings that crown 
these days, sneer at those sturdy fathers whose hard- 
ehips browned their visages and gnarled their hands, 
and whose knowledge of the polite arts and the learn- 
ing of the books was, in most instances, necessarily 
circumscribed. 

In closing, we feel bound to remark that Mr. Pur- 
chis had eccentricities. And it is not to be disguised 
that these gave occasion for some to speak evil of him. 
Now in a moral point of view, it is perhaps better 
for one not to be spoken of at all, than to be spoken 
against; in other words to remain unknown rather 



186 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

than to be known through evil report. And it is cer- 
tainly most congenial to the honest and sensitive to be 
spared from censure though it might be maliciously 
and falsely bestowed. Indeed there is no one, how- 
ever brave he may think himself, who is not disturbed 
by animadversions, whether just or unjust. But if we 
take the matter in a mere worldly point of view, one 
had better be talked against than not talked about. 
It is, moreover, quite clear that for some purposes it 
is even better to be traduced than praised ; for by 
being set down among rogues one may get the sympa- 
thy of that brotherhood, and they being largely in the 
majority, he might receive the more aid and comfort. 
Why, what would a politician, for instance, do without 
a crew of slanderers at his heels? though perhaps in 
this illustration it might be more exact to say, instead 
of slanderers, dispensers of unsavory truths. But we 
have no disposition to insinuate that Mr. Pnrchis had 
any reprehensible ambition, or desire to manufacture 
a reputation in any illegitimate way. His course was 
straightforward and manly. 

As before observed, Mr. Purchis removed to Con- 
cord in 1G91, and died in 1701, at the age of " foure 
score yeares & viij." The evening twilight of his 
existence was serene and happy. Though he was away 
from most of those who had longest known him and 
could consequently the better appreciate his virtues, 
yet the christian resignation of his parting hour af- 
forded an example that all who wept around him could 
comprehend and were constrained to admire. 



THOMA-S DEXTER. 

" Lo ! quick beneath his lustie arme, 

the antieat forest falls ; 
And o'er its bounde the noble farme 

distends its circling walls." 

We find Mr. Dexter in the Third Plantation as earlj 
as 1630. And being one of those destined to make a 
sensation wherever they may be, we are enabled to 
catch glimpses of him through a long series of years. 
The early municipal records having been destroyed, 
however, it is not easy to give a full account of his 
life. To the colony records we are indebted for most 
of the certain knowledge that survives respecting him. 

It must be acknowledged in the outset that Mr. 
Dexter, at least in his earlier life, possessed an irascible 
temper, and that his moral principles were not always 
sufficient to restrain his pugnacious propensities ; a 
condition by no means uncommon in this irritating and 
irritable world. One of the earliest incidents in his 
life here, was a quarrel with Gov. Endicott. And it 
seems to have originated in a dispute about the proper 
season for trimming that immortal pear tree brought 
over by the latter, and which the newspapers of this 
day every year inform us yet flourishes on what is 
still called the Endicott Farm, in Danvers. In regard 
to the difficulty, however, we are glad to say that the 
aggression seems to have come from the testy magis- 

C187^ 



188 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

trate, for Mr. Dexter appeared a5? complainant. It 
maybe mentioned, in passing, that Endicott was not 
Governor at the time the affair happened. At a Court 
of Assistants, held in Boston, May 3, 1631, a jur}' was 
empanneled to inquire concerning the " accon of bat- 
try, complayned of by Thomas Dexter against Capt. 
Endicott." And the verdict was : " The jury findes 
for the plaintiffe and cesses for damages xls." We do 
not therefore perceive that in this matter much should 
be set down to the discredit of Mr. Dexter. 

An unbecoming exhibition of temper in Mr. Dexter 
took place in 1G32. The record of the Court of As- 
sistants, thus discovers its nature: "It is ordered that 
Thomas Dexter shalbe bound to his good behav"^ till 
the nexte Genall Court, & ffined vZ. for his misdemean' 
& insolent carriage & speeches to S: Bradstreete, att 
his owne howse ; also att the Genall Court is bound to 
confesse his fault." It does not exactly appear what 
he did about confessing his fault. But we are justi- 
fied in a favorable conclusion for the Court seems to 
have been graciously inclined at the term held Nov. 7. 
At that time there were "iiijZ. of Tho : Dexter's fine 
of \l. forgiven him." 

And we find still another case, which, judging from 
the severity of the penalty, was deemed of a peculiarly 
aggravated character. At a Court holden March 4, 
1632, it was disposed of in this Avise : "It is ordered 
that Thomas Dexter shalbe sett in the bilbowes, dis- 
franchized & ffined xH. for speakeing repchfull & sedi- 
tious words against the goum* here established, & 
findeing fault to dyVs wth the acts of the Court saye- 
ing this captious goum* will bring all to naught, adding 
that the best of them was but an atturney, &c." This 
was really a severe punishment j the disfranchising 



THOMAS DEXTER. 189' 

feature especially. Nor was the fine of 40?. a small 
matter, particularly in those days. And the ignomini- 
ous exposition in the bilboes was of no light character. 
What part of the rigor is attributable to hi^ slurring 
allusion to "an atturney," we cannot say. But the 
utterance seems to indicate that some law-mongers 
were not very highly estimated. And the distaste for 
lawyers so early manifested in the Plantation seems to 
have existed for many years. The venerable Benja- 
min Merrill, who died in Salem, in 1847, and who was 
for a long period one of the brightest ornaments of the 
bar appears to have been the first regular lawyer who 
settled in Lynn. He came in 1808. And a few years 
before his death he informed the writer, that soon after 
opening his office, which was in the lower room of a 
modest dwelling house, a deputation of the citizens 
waited on him with the request that he would remove 
from town ; giving as a reason that they had usually 
lived peaceably and were apprehensive that the incom- 
ing of a lawyer betokened the outgoing of quiet and 
good-neighborhood. Now Mr. Merrill was a gentle- 
man distinguished for excellence of feeling and suavity 
of manner. So he politely informed them that he cer- 
tainly should not remain against their wishes ; and 
presently removed to Salem, where he lived for many 
years, prosperous and greatly respected. 

But to return to Mr. Dexter : The severe punishment 
awarded him clearly proves that the people of his day 
had not the blessed privilege of railing at government 
with the impunity that people of this day have. But 
here, again, good fortune attended him. A record of 
the General Court, Sept. 6, 1638, referring to certain 
doings in 1632, says: "4 M''ch Thorn: Dexter being 
fined 40 Z. there was 30 Z. of it remited to him." The 



•190 KOTABLE PEOPLE. 

fourth of March is a lucky day, as well as an honorable 
one in American annals. 

But it is not agreeable to dwell on occurrences like 
those named ; occurrences that impel us to the afore- 
said acknowledgment that our Subject was unfortu- 
nately possessed of an irritable temper. However, his 
antagonists seem to have been among the more emi- 
nent personages. If a man must fight, it is more to 
his credit to grapple with a worthy adversary. " Capt. 
Eiidicott" and "S: Bradstreete" were Governors under 
the first Charter, the former in 1644 and the latter in 
1679. And his assaults upon the government show 
that he shot among lofty game. Yet he may have 
engaged with more lowly adversaries, differences with 
them being adjusted without the intervention of the 
august courts ; for, after all, irritable people are not 
usually very particular in choosing their antagonists. 

There is no doubt that Mr. Dexter was a man of en- 
terprise and pubhc spirit. We find him zealous in the 
furtherance of every operation promising to be of 
public benefit, particularly when connected with his 
own personal advantage. Enterprise, indeed, was a 
characteristic of the family from the time when their 
great progenitor began the manufacture of Dutch 
cheese, in North Wales, down to the time when the 
renowned Lord Timothy sent warming-pans and skates 
to the West India market. 

And the men of enterprise, after all, are those who 
are most frequently in difficulties with those about 
them. Many oppose them from selfish motives and 
many from jealous}'. Quiet and indolent people have 
little opposition to encounter. They do not jostle 
their neighbors because they do not stir among them. 
If a person never steps he will not tread on the toes 



THOMAS DEXTER. 191 

of others. And by never stirring, he accomplishes 
little or nothing. True, the old saw teaches that the 
deepest water runs stillest. But passing by the im- 
portant question recently agitated, whether still water 
runs at all, it might be suggested that something de- 
pends upon the quality of the bottom. 

Some people are so given to planning and the 
changing of plans that they arrive at the time to die 
before they have fixed on a way to live. It seemed 
necessary, however, for Mr. Dexter to change or 
supersede some of his plans, for two or three were of 
such magnitude that had he been required to live a 
suflScient time for their accomplishment, he would not 
at this hour have been beyond middle life. 

One or two of his enterprises cei'tainly arose to 
the sublime, if, indeed, they did not shoot a little into 
the adjoining territory. And on the whole, we are 
persuaded that under conceivable circumstances he 
might have become as conspicuous as "Walter Raleigh, 
Cromwell, or Van Tromp. But in the pent up Third 
Plantation he was simply Farmer Dexter. Are not 
characters formed by circumstances? Had Franklin 
been bound as apprentice to a shoemaker in some 
country village, is it probable that he would ever have 
been known as any thing more than a jolly cordwainer? 
"Why should there not be jovial Franklins in village 
shops as well as mute Miltons in country churchyards? 

Mr. Dexter did much service in clearing away the 
woods, fencing pasture land, and reducing the richer 
acres to an arable condition. That excellent kind of 
fencing, the cobble-stone wall, still so common in the 
Bay State, was put in requisition at a very early pe- 
riod. Indeed, in clearing the lands, these walls could 
be laid very cheaply ; and were so easily repaired and so 



192 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

durable, that for miles hardly any other kind of fencing 
was in use. Many of the walls laid by the first settlers 
still adorn the landscape, mossy with age but enduring 
in strength. And many a valuable land title has been 
established by these unsubornable witnesses. 

Not long ago an important cause was decided in the 
Supreme Court, wherein an ancient stone wall on land 
that once belonged to Mr. Dexter, and the line of which 
is still visible, was made, through the mirage of the law, 
to loom up in a manner most perspicuous and satisfac- 
tory. And it is not improbable that the worthy Subject 
of this biography himself assisted in laying that very 
wall. Perhaps, also, an occasional set-to with a boosy 
workman, served to relieve the monotony of the labor. 
Alaric, when so fiercely battling the Roman?, declared 
that he was always at peace with stone walls. With- 
out stopping to inquire whether they were fortress 
walls, Avith which, no doubt, he found it expedient to 
be at peace, we proceed to remark that Mr. Dexter 
was not only at peace but in love with stone walls of 
the kind just now under notice. He was a lusty and 
accomplished hand at their erection, and so substantial 
was his handiwork, that on one occasion, in 1G58, the 
frost, which had for several years been trying in vaia 
to level a small piece, was forced to call to its aid a 
spirited young earthquake before the end could be 
accomplished. 

In common with all men of public spirit, Mr. Dexter 
was not always successful in inducing others to think 
as he did. Had it not been for this difficulty, some 
of the wonderful improvements that have been re- 
served for this age would have gladdened the eyes of 
our great-grandfithers. And some others that now 
never will be made would have cheered the same eyes. 



THOMAS DEXTER. 193 

Lynn Beach, that lovely extent of glittering sand and 
curious pebbles and shells, which the old geographer 
declared it worth a voyage across the ocean to see, 
would have had a sea-guard that all the sapping and 
mining power that old Neptune had at his command 
could not have overthrown. Mr. Dexter foresaw the 
encroachments that the ungovernable billows would 
make, as soon as the trees were removed ; and saga- 
ciously considering that in the abundance of material 
then at hand, an impregnable barrier could be erected 
at comparatively little cost, set about compassing the 
object. But the colonial authorities viewed the matter 
with indifference. And magnates of the lesser spheres 
thought the undertaking altogether too great to be 
engaged in. Some ridiculed the project. But ridi- 
cule is one of those weapons that none but the most 
skillful should attempt to use. 

A member of the General Court, who bad given an 
airing to his powers of irony in a speech concerning 
the proposed erection, during an afternoon session, 
got a blow in the face, on his way home, a little after 
dark, that sent him staggering against a rail fence. It 
was never ascertained who gave the blow, though a 
great noise was made on account of such a daring 
assault being made on a public functionary. It is not 
even clear on whom suspicion most strongly rested. 

Mr. Dexter arrived home rather late that night. 
But there was nothing particularly suspicious in that. 
Neither was there any thing particularly suspicious in 
the fact that in the morning one or two small patches 
of skin appeared to have escaped from the knuckles 
of his right hand ; for work upon stone walls is apt 
to occasion injuries of the hands. But there was a 
little something calculated to awaken suspicion in his 
I 13 



194 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

tart reply to the goodwife who at the breakfast table 
sympathetically inquired how he had so injured him- 
self — " Ask me not, ask me not, dame. The pain will 
not be yours to bear." 

Perhaps, however, Mr. Dexter would have been 
more successful in securing his end had he not con- 
nected with the project named another so unquestion- 
ably chimerical as almost to create a doubt as to his 
sanity. Indeed he loaded his omnibus so heavily that 
it could not be dragged. This latter enterprise was 
to clear off all the trees and other vegetation on Egg 
Rock, shovel the surface earth into the sea, and then 
boat over sufficient yellow loam to form a miniature 
plantation. But what he expected to raise there that 
could not be better produced on the main land, we 
are entirely at a loss to determine. We however 
conclude, from something found in Obadiah Turner's 
journal, that he fancied he could there raise a kind 
of cane that would be useful in chair making and which 
required, in growing, a constant and abundant saline 
evaporation. Any way, by perseverance during an 
entire season he managed to get a considerable quan- 
tity of new earth there. The lonely keeper of the 
light house, has now the benefit of his wonderful labor. 
And when that functionary contemplates his stunted 
cabbages and wilted squash-vines, listless upon their 
beds of red sorrel, he should drop a tear to the memory 
of Goodman Dexter. 

The project of Mr. Dexter for the erection of the 
sea-wall, was put forth and received as an enterprise 
for the public benefit. But yet, it is not difficult 
to perceive its connection with a private interest. 
He had purchased Nahant from an Indian chief and 
naturally had an eye to the improvement of his newly 



THOMAS DEXTER. 195 

acquired possession. And this we must set down as 
indisputable evidence that he was a shrewd, wide- 
awake man ; for do we not award such a character to 
those among us who manage in exactly the same way? 

Another scheme of Mr. Dexter, was to straighten 
Saugus river. Any one ignorant of the course of that 
stream, by taking a look from the highlands in the 
vicinity, will at once conclude that there is need 
enough of its being straightened. First, it appears to 
have made up its mind to run this way. Then, after 
going some rods, it seems to have found it expedient 
to go back and take a fresh start. Again, it diverges 
to the right, as if determined to run up the hills and 
off towards Boston. Soon repenting of this, it flows 
rapidly back and keeps on towards the left as if bent 
on undermining the cedar hills on the bounds of Lynn. 
In short, for a mile or two, it seems aiming to illustrate 
the picturesque or endeavoring to elucidate some oc- 
cult geometrical problem. 

The account given by the Indians of the formation 
of this river, is worthy of being considered. They 
gravely informed the settlers that when the Great 
Spirit had got the earth nearly prepared for its garni- 
ture, he happened to be walking around one fine morn- 
ing, somewhere up at the north, and espied an enor- 
mous serpent, basking in the sun, among some spare 
boulders. Seizing one of the boulders, of many tuns 
weight, he hurled it at the monster. Unluckily the 
aim was imperfect, and the serpent started, with great 
speed, for the ocean. His assailant, however, rapidly 
followed, dealing a blow whenever within reach. And 
it was only by exercising all his powers, both of speed 
and cunning, sometimes dodging back, between the 
legs of his pursuer, and sometimes gliding to the right 



196 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

or left, that lie was finally able to reach the sea. The 
earth not then having quite hardened, the serpent's 
body sank somewliat; and thus was ploughed the tor- 
tuous channel of Saugus river. 

The Indians added that there were accounts of the 
serpent's having been occasionally seen near the shore, 
after the country became inhabited, and of some being 
afraid to go out in their skiffs for fish. What reflec- 
tive mind will fail to connect the wonderful serpent 
here spoken of with that pet of summer visiters to 
the coast of New England, the Sea-serpent ? And 
what pious mind will fail to connect them both witli 
that old serpent, the Devil, who is ubiquitous? 

There is some obscurity about Mr. Dexter's object 
in straightening Saugus river, though he seems to have 
had something connected with mill privileges in mind. 
His purpose, however, might simply have been to 
make straight the crooked ways of nature. But be 
that as it may, he was no more successful in obtaining 
public aid here than in his beach enterprise. And there 
is little wonder, for he overdid the thing, running into 
the same weakness that defeats many worthy objects 
in these days. Perseverance is much more effectual 
than zeal, with one who desires to obtain public favor. 
Some of the witnesses Avhom he produce^ made most 
extraordinary statements Avhile under oath before the 
Court. Among other things it Avas sworn that five 
people who lived in the vicinity had been made cross- 
eyed by looking on the river. 

In his private enterprises, Mr. Dexter's genius some- 
times outrode his resources. In other words, he could 
not alwaj^s find the means necessary to carry out his 
plans, and so found himself, now and then, in the wil- 
derness of pecuniary embarrassment ; a condition un- 



THOMAS DEXTER. 197 

fortunately by uo means uncommon with the most 
enterprising in all times. 

Perhaps the most notable of Mr. Dexter's specula- 
tions was the purchase of Nahant from the Indian 
chief who did honor to the euphonious English name 
of " Black Will." That charming headland, now so 
extensively known and as extensively admired as a 
watering place, where on every hand rise the costl}'' 
villas and nestle the unique cottages of the sons of 
fortune J and w^here, during the warm season, congre- 
gate the beauty and fashion of the land — that gem of 
the blue ocean, with its magnificent cliffs, its silvery 
beaches and green uplands, was, in 1G30, sold by Black 
Will to Mr. Dexter for a suit of clothes and a jews- 
harp. The parties occupied nearly a whole day in 
settling the details. And it was not till Mr. Dexter 
bad gone four miles into the woods and played six 
tunes on the harp, before the assembled tribe, to con- 
vince them that the tongue was not leather, that he 
was able to procure what he conceived to be a suffi- 
cient title-deed. 

There was nothing remarkable in the mere act of 
purchase. It was the after rumbling that elevated the 
matter to the position of an important event. The 
town treated the bargain as a nullity, declaring, An- 
dros like, that Will's de^ed was no better than the 
scratch of a bear's paw. And vexatious litigation 
soon began to drag its slow length along. The cause 
was finally determined against Mr. Dexter ; but not 
till years after Will had worn out the clothes. The 
jewsharp, hov/ever, survived, but in a damaged state. 
By constant use it soon lost its tongue and was then 
sold to a neighboring chief for land enough to make a 
modern farm, the purchaser coveting it as a personal 



198 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

ornament for a favorite squaw. So \Yill was safe from 
making restitution, wlien the title failed. And as to 
the quarrel between his grantee and the town, he 
cared not a crow feather which beat in that. lie no 
doubt thought himself shrewd. And why should he 
not be praised for his shrewdness as well as good 
christian people when they conduct in like manner ? 

Nahant was by no means the only land purchase 
that Mr. Dexter made of the Indians. He also bought 
a large tract lying about a mile north of the iron works. 
For this he gave an iron kettle, a pewter spoon, four 
pumpkin seeds, and one of those never failing jews- 
harps. Our ancestors early found that music had 
charms for the savage ; and had they possessed a 
dozen hand organs, they could at once have made 
themselves owners of half the continent. The worst 
thing about this purchase was, that the Indian and Mr. 
Dexter, while perambulating the bounds, got into a 
quarrel. Their combat took place at the edge of a 
swamp, near a growth of dogwood, and fortunately or 
unfortunately they seized the weapons nearest at hand, 
and both became so poisoned in using them that they 
were laid up for three weeks. The gross amount of 
punishment was about equally divided between them. 
And it would be highly beneficial to have all such 
quarrels terminate as equitably. 

Mr. Dexter's purchase of Nahant, as before inti- 
mated, like some of his other speculations, did not 
turn out to be very profitable. The town having dis- 
puted his title, the matter was kept fermenting in the 
cauldron of the law for a good while, till it finally settled 
bright and clear against him. A survey of the whole 
peninsula was then ordered, and it was laid out in lots, 
whicli were distributed among the inhabitants. But 



THOMAS DEXTER. 199 

the litigation concerning Nahant lands did not end 
with Mr. Dexter. A taste was reserved even for this 
generation. The surveyors were too liberal in certain 
instances, here and there throwing in little tracts to 
compensate for deformities and deficiencies of nature. 
As the land increased in value and the proprietors 
began to look up their rights, it was found, on mea- 
suring, that in this or that range of lots there was 
more land than was required to give each his portion. 
And as it is generally as difficult to manage a surplus as 
a deficiency, disputes arose as to the ownership of the 
overplus, at once perplexing and irritating. There 
was much scolding; and as to fighting, that has not 
ceased to this day, at least such as could be carried on 
by the more genteel weapons of the law. Some, not 
apprehending the true cause of the difficulty, declared 
that the earth had grown since the original surveys, 
and that the increase should be disposed of as a gra- 
tuity bestowed by nature. The more the land in- 
creased in value, the more obstinate and acrimonious 
became the controversies. And though at this day 
most of tlie territory is in undisputed possession, yet 
in regard to the few outstanding claims, it may be said 
that they are contended for with a zeal which, did it 
characterise men's efforts to secure possessions in Para- 
dise would surely not prove unavailing. 

Myriads of cod fish sported in Massachusetts Bay at 
the time of the early settlements. The noble promon- 
tory now known as Cape Cod took its name from this 
circumstance. They were easily taken, and soon came 
to furnish a profitable article of export. A hardy and 
industrious race of bay fishermen, of whom the Third 
Plantation furnished her full share, were early known. 
And from them ultimately grew the foreign marine of 



200 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

New England, tlie indomitable naval material, the right 
arm of our nation's defense. In the early stages of the 
fishing business — to say nothing of the late — many 
a shrewd landsman furnished the means for outfitting, 
and in return had the lion's share of profits. 

And this leads to the statement that we have a lurk- 
ing apprehension, from certain facts that have turned 
up during our historical researches, that Mr. Dexter, 
in company with his enterprising fellow townsman, 
Thomas Laighton — he from whom the Laighton Bank 
takes its euphonious name — Avent into the cod fishing 
business, exported the fish to Barbadoes, and, we say 
it with blushes, sold them for rum. This was a kind 
of trade that flourished amazingly, among the morally 
pretentious colonists at a certain period. 

The partnership of Dexter and Laigliton did not ex- 
ist for a great while, the former becoming dissatisfied 
with the result of some speculations. They kept a small 
store in a little frame building that stood where Ex- 
change Building now stands, on Market street. And 
the business of the store was left almost entirely to 
Mr. Laighton's management. 

Now Mr. Laighton was a confidence man — not in 
the modern acceptation of the term, for both he and 
Mr. Dexter were scrupulously honest — but a man 
confident of his own abilities. He was famous for 
laying down maxims for the guidance of human con- 
duct; and generally, when he showed his sincerity by 
acting on them, found his interest more or less com- 
promised. He laid it down as an invariable rule, for 
instance, that a rogue can never look an honest man 
straight in the eye. Now rogues are not usually 
bashful and can often look honest men out of counte- 
nance. It is the naturally diffident, such as are com- 



THOMAS DEXTER. 201 

monlj found among the most innocent, who are apt to 
cast their eyes downward. As Mr. Laighton held 
tenaciously to this maxim it was not remarkable that 
he should as well put it in the converse form, assuming 
that all who could look others in the eye, were honest. 
The absurdity is patent in this form if not in the other. 
It would be a better maxim to adopt, that all who 
boast of their ability to discern character in any such 
way, are of the unsophisticated school with whom the 
worldly wise profess to be less inclined to deal than 
with rogues. 

We remarked that the store was almost entirely 
under the management of Mr. Laighton. And he did 
not, as do the more ambitious traders of the present 
day, deem it important, excepting in the most busy 
season, to be very constantly at his post. He was 
to be found there on rainy days, evenings, an hour or 
two at noon, and at various odd intervals. Sometimes 
his neighbors would desire articles at such hours as 
the store was closed. They must then look him up at 
his house, in some workshop or on some field of public 
duty ; or, perhaps, they would find him seated in the 
shade of a tree, conferring with Mr, Dexter on their 
mutual interests. And being found, he might hand 
them the store key, and bid them go and help them- 
selves, making a charge of what they took, upon the 
day book, which was usually kept lying open on the 
counter, blurred and blotted by maple molasses and 
sanded with dust and meal. But he was never known 
to thus trust one Avho could not look him straight in 
the eye. 

We think. these things quite sufficient to justify our 
assertion that Mr. Laighton was a confidence man. 
But there must have been a blessed state of society at 
I* 



202 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

that time. If one of the traders whose elegant stores 
are now upon the very spot he occupied should fall 
into his way of conducting business, the whole capital 
of Laighton Bank, the good settler's own memorist, 
would not keep him afloat for six months. 

We have alluded to this foible of Mr. Laighton, more 
because of its singularity in such a character, than 
from any particular instruction that is to be drawn 
from it. lie was really a man of excellent parts ; had 
keen perceptive powers, much natural intelligence, 
and a good judgment, well disciplined by a varied 
experience. And his moral integrity was unques- 
tioned. For a number of years he filled the office of 
Representative to the General Court with credit to 
himself and usefulness to his constituency. The foible 
named only goes to confirm the truism that there can 
be no human character without its weak point. Taken 
for all in all, if one third of the people in the world 
were as good as Mr. Laighton, the human family could 
boast of a much better average than we find. 

The store was an unpretending edifice, without paint 
or clapboards, and the front was adorned with odd little 
signs of different lengths and widths, announcing that 
''Come Meale," " Candells," " Salte ffish," " Tooles," 
and " Towe Cloth," were for sale within ; and also 
that "Pype Staves," " Hoope Poles," and '' Cydar," 
would be taken in exchange for " goodes." 

A noble beach tree stood in front of the shop door, 
spreading its patriarchal branches to a great extent, 
and bestowing the blessing of refreshing shade. Near 
its trunk were sundry rough troughs for the conve- 
nience of baiting hungry horses. And an oaken bucket, 
benevolently provided for transporting water from a 
spring that bubbled up from beneath a rock on the 



THOMAS DEXTER. 203 

other side of the road, hung alluringly on a peg in 
the tree. It was an inviting spot to way-worn man 
and beast. And often of a summer noon an eminently 
picturesque scene was there presented. A rude bench 
stood on either side of the shop door, for the conve- 
nience of those village fathers who at evening assem- 
bled to discuss the news and debate on public affairs. 
And there, while considering their glorious privileges, 
they would occasionally become so elated, as sponta- 
neously to break forth in songs of pious joy, such as 
would echo over the little pond that quietly smiled in 
its rushy zone a few rods west of the store, and roll 
murmuringly along the distant hills. And then the 
whole surface of the water would become studded 
with the green heads of charmed bullfrogs, who, emu- 
lous of harmonious sounds, would, after putting forth 
their best endeavors, and failing to satisfy themselves, 
sail away to hide their diminished heads. It is said 
that Plato had such a perverted ear, or practical mind, 
that he desired to banish the heavenly maid from the 
commonwealth. Luckily it was not so Avith our fathers, 
for had it been they would have failed to possess one 
of the most effectual of all means for subduing the 
savages. 

At the risk of being charged with digressing — a 
thing of such rare occurrence in this volume — we are 
constrained to say a word about a very singular arti- 
cle that it has been said Mr. Laighton at one time wore 
for the protection of his head, and of the distressing 
event that induced its adoption. 

The article in question was a racoon skin, all in full 
fur, worn as a wig, with the tail hanging down behind, 
like an ill-shapen cue. 

And the disaster which rendered it necessary for 



20-4 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Lim to adopt some such head dress may be briefly 
related in this way : 

One warm day Mr. Laighton was cutting white pine 
wood in the Dungeon Pasture. He had trimmed some 
of the larger limbs from a huge tree and cleared away 
the rougher bark, preparatory to felling it, when, being 
much fatigued, he concluded to partake of his noon 
repast and then indulge in a little rest. Having ac- 
complished the first, in pursuance of the latter, he 
threw off his hat, and seating himself near the devoted 
tree, soon fell fast asleep, his venerable head, often 
weary from carrying its great burden of knowledge, 
falling back against the trunk. His sleep was sound, 
for he had an undisturbed conscience, and somewhat 
protracted, insomuch that when he awoke, the declin- 
ing sun and cooled air betokened the near approach 
of night. A little startled, he was springing to his feet, 
when his head was almost wrenched from his shoulders, 
and he perceived that by some unaccountable means 
his meridian member had become a real estate fix- 
ture. He put all his philosophy at work to solve the 
mystery. It did not seem consistent that his head 
should have suddenly died, leaving his bod}' alive ; so 
he Avould not entertain such an idea. Nor was it more 
rational to suppose that his head was determined to 
have a little more of that sweet sleep, in spite of the 
disturbances of its wakeful adjuncts. 

In making a second effort, however, his eyes became 
literally opened, and so widely, that it seemed ques- 
tionable whether he would ever be able to close them 
again. The mystery was solved. 

From the wounds he had inflicted on the tree, the 
pitch had copiously flowed ; and as the air cooled it 
had hardened, holding the matted body of his hair as 



THOMAS DEXTER. 205 

firmlj as the scalp held the roots. His condition was 
any thing but agreeable, no effort that he was able to 
make, giving the slightest promise of release. He had 
no knife, and the slow process of relieving himself by 
his hands, even were it possible to endure the pain and 
keep his arms in the agonising position necessary, for 
a sufficient length of time, seemed entirely out of the 
question. He might have starved to death or been 
eaten up by wild beasts before he could have effected 
any thing in that way. 

By all tliat appeared he would be obliged to remain 
a prisoner at least for the night, and perhaps be forced 
in his crippled condition to defend himself against sav- 
age beasts and satanic emissaries, the woods at that 
time abounding in such gentry. In the extremity of 
terror, arising from reflection on his dangers, he roared 
out in such a strain as to induce the most terrific re- 
sponses from far and near. 

Presently, with mingled feelings of joy and appre- 
hension, Mr. Laighton perceived, stealthily emerging 
from the thicket, a stalwart Indian. The red man 
grinned at his contortions, and approached with some 
boldness, for he could perceive from the writhings of 
the body and the fixedness of the head, that from 
the latter at least there was not much to be feared. 
Mr. Laighton at once hailed his red brother, and gave 
him .to understand that he desired a little christian aid. 
But this appeal not exactly striking home to the dusky 
heart, as was indicated by a surly grunt, he without 
more ado threw himself upon the Indian's generosity 
and honor as a man, a fellow being; taking, in short, 
the course that very many do when they are in a 
strait and cannot help themselves. And the since- 
rity of Mr. Laighton's appeal was evidenced by a copi- 



206 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

ons flow of tears. It used to be said that tears were 
a great dread to the Indiaus ; and that nothing on 
earth could cause them to shed any, but the tooth 
ache. Be that as it may, Mr. Laighton succeeded in 
gaining the friendly offices of the one who had so 
opportunely appeared. 

" Me vum," growled the savage, " Master Lakum in 
ye stocks, jest as poor Indjan was. Now me give him 
a dam preach." 

This last was in allusion to the circumstance that 
Avhen that same Indian was once undergoing the use- 
ful discipline of the stocks, Mr. Laighton had his chris- 
tian sympathies so stirred that he stood for an hour 
in the broiling sun lecturing him on the danger of his 
sinful ways. 

The red rascal now planted himself before his victim, 
and went on with a " preach," more plain than pleasant. 
It contained all the tattle and slander that he had 
picked up during his many visits to the settlement. 
The charge on which the dusky orator dwelt with the 
most passionate ardor was that of his having sold a 
leather tongued jewsharp to an Indian. But another 
charge, which seemed to be considered hardly sec- 
ond in importance to this, was that of his having, in 
conjunction with Mr. Dexter, sent Indian prisoners, 
taken in the wars, to the West Indies, with their 
salt fish, and sold them for the same sort of return 
cargo that they sold the fish. That such nefarious 
things were done by some of the christian colonists 
we are afraid is undeniable. But there is no reason 
that we can find to suppose that any thing of the kind 
was ever done hereabouts. This Indian had probably 
somewhere heard of the horrible traffick and used the 
infornjation to embellish his discourse. And do not 



THOMAS DEXTER, 207 

we behold, in these enh'ghtened times, quite as ques- 
tionable a way of embellishing often resorted to ? 

The dusky orator's discourse was delivered with 
great unction. And having finished, he drew his knife, 
saying, " Now me let Master Lakum out ye stocks." 

With a ceremony in imitation of the proceedings on 
the release of a culprit from the stocks, and brandish- 
ing his weapon in a mysterious way, the Indian ap- 
proached the tree. Scarcely had he looked down on 
that defenseless head, when all the sanguinary impulses 
of his cruel nature became aroused. And he could 
not resist the temptation to become possessor of one 
more white man's scalp. With the rapidity of light- 
ning his knife flew to its favorite work; the Avarm 
blood gushed along the artistic curve ; and then, in 
completion of the labor, he set up a frightful yell, at the 
same time pricking his victim in the back. Mr. Laigh- 
ton, not doubting that the savage intended to kill him 
outright, gave a desperate spring. And away he went, 
freed from durance and freed also from his scalp, with 
the speed of a camel, off towards Tomlins's Swamp. 
And there remained the grinning Indian unloosing the 
venerable scalp from the old pine tree. 

The red villain was never seen in the Plantation 
afterward. 

Mr. Laighton's dreadful wound healed in due time. 
He found it convenient to adopt the comical substitute 
before named, the racoon skin, for the natural covering 
of his head ; and though, singular in its appearance 
it excited mirth in no one, for all knew of the calam- 
itous event that called it into use. 

We remarked, a few pages back, that there is cause 
for suspicion that Messrs. Dexter and Laigliton were 
engaged, to some extent, in that discreditable Barba- 



208 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

does traffick. The Barbadoes rum was the true " fire 
water" of the Indians. And it was imported in such 
quantities as to become a terrible scourge to New 
England, not only as regarded the colonists themselves 
but also the miserable Indians. Had Hugh Peters seen 
things as they certainly were here at one period, his 
conscience never would have permitted him to make 
the boastful statement that he did to Parliament, to 
wit, that he had lived seven years in New England, 
and had not heard a profane oath nor seen a drunken 
man in all that time. These seven years were probably 
from 1635 to 1642. And it gives us pleasure to add 
that most of his time was spent in the vicinity of the 
Third Plantation. 

But there seems to have come from Barbadoes 
something besides fire water, that greatly troubled 
the colonists. The first Quakers that appeared in 
New England came from that productive island ; the 
first, at least, who openly professed themselves of that 
order. It was in 1656 that Ann Austin and Mary 
Fisher arrived and commenced promulgating those, 
doctrines that ultimately created such a ferment. 

A biographer never fully performs his duty without 
treating to some extent of the personal appearance of 
his Subject. The reader is always pleased with this, 
for if the character is a worthy one, it facilitates his 
power to trace resemblances in himself; and if an 
unworth}^ one it aids him in the pleasant occupation 
of tracing resemblances in his neighbors. 

In Mr. Dexter's physical construction there was 
nothing very remarkable. Plis forehead was full, with 
a vertical wrinkle or two, rather expressive of con- 
flicts within. His gently bulging nose, slightly rubi- 
cund, and shining as if kept well varnished, stood out 



THOMAS DEXTER. 209 

in rather more than ordinary prominence from the facial 
plain of sandy red. His eyes were gray and deeply set 
in their sockets, surrounded by ruddy circles, indica- 
tive of inflammation, occasioned, it might be, by expo- 
sure to the weather; or, perhaps, by overstraining 
from looking at Saugus river. His hair was thick and 
bushy, and while he was yet in middle life, took pity 
on the lonesome condition of his eyes and changed so 
as to bear them company in color. He interposed no 
obstruction to its growth, in defiance of the law for- 
bidding that any man's hair should extend below his 
ears, and kindly avoided disturbing its equanimity, 
on ordinary occasions, by any comb finer than his 
spread fingers. His noble beard, too, was treated 
with great consideration. He would as soon have 
thought of clipping his ears as that. In form, he cer- 
tainly approached the faultless. His chest was broad 
and full, and his arms and nether extremities would 
have done honor to a gladiator. On the whole, we 
feel fully justified in pronouncing Mr. Dexter a man 
of more than ordinarily commanding presence. 

We have remarked that we hold it important for a 
biographer to describe the physical peculiarities of his 
Subject just as they are, and given cogent reasons 
therefor. And it is desirable further to say that in 
these days of scientific light a more perfect idea of 
character may be thus formed than by any details of 
actions. The old fashioned idea that a man's doings 
are to certify what his character is, has exploded. His 
phrenological or physiognomical developments are to 
determine the question. And we have found it neces- 
sary in keeping pace with the progress of science to 
somewhat mar the' fair face even of our big Bible by 
annotations. For instance, after.Dr. Trapplescorn, the 

14 



210 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

phrenologist, was' here, against the passage declaring 
that by their icorlcs we may know men, we had to put, 
" Mem. By their heads we must know them." Then 
came Dr. Addlesop, the physiognomist, and we had to 
put again, ''Mem. 2d. By their /aces we must know 
them." After Professor Hodgcapp, the geologist, was 
here, against the passage in Exodus, xx. 11, " For in 
six days," <fec. we had to write, " For in six periods 
each of six hundred thousand years, more or less," &c. 
True, it made mischief in another way ; for what be- 
comes of the seventh day, the good old Sabbath which 
men for so many ages have delighted to honor? But 
then what is the Sabbath when it opposes the theo- 
retical deductions of masters in science ? 

Like most men of philosophical turn, in the matter 
of dress Mr. Dexter thought less of appearance than 
of comfort or convenience. As it was said of one that 
he did not live to eat but ate to live, so of our Subject 
it may be said, he did not live to dress but dressed to 
live. His coat of gray woolen was indulged with an 
airing on Sundays and other notable occasions. And 
his brown velvet small-clothes, with their graceful 
continuances, all fashioned in the father land, received 
the same favors, illustrating the benefit of being ad- 
junctive to greatness. But the every day habiliments 
of Mr. Dexter were not such as to distinguish him as 
a Brummel. A homespun frock, from beneath which 
protruded a pair of boots of uncurried leather, enor- 
mous in size and grotesque in shape, and a scarf of 
striped cloth about the neck were the chief things 
observable, save the round topped hat, with immense 
brim, flabby and flapping. As he walked, that brim 
would beat on his shoulders like an 'elephant's ears; 
and if he ran, it would play such pranks as to greatly 



THOMAS DEXTER. 211 

offend the ej^es. To obviate this difficulty, he some- 
times resorted to the expedient of passing a piece of 
cod-line over the crown and tying it under the chin; 
thus making all taut, as the sailors say. And when- 
ever this was done the rebellious eyes would readily 
return" to duty, congratulating the ears on their pros- 
pect of protection from the cold. 

We have said something of Mr. Dexter's ancestry ; 
and a word or two may be added. He belonged to a 
very ancient family, which can be traced to the times 
of the Plantagenets. In the reign of Edward III. they 
stirred up great political strife in Anglesey, and one 
restless spirit would have found his head and four 
quarters suddenly parting company had he not claimed 
benefit of clergy. The success of the claim proves 
that though he may have been a villain he yet had 
some learning ; probably about the amount that makes 
it a dangerous thing. At any rate he had some, for 
no one was entitled to that inestimable benefit, who 
could not at least write. That singular subterfuge, 
the ajgis under which every species of roguery flour- 
ished, and which from its origin in the Middle Ages, 
continued for centuries, sprang from the mysterious 
reverence for learning which even now is often found 
to exist in the uncultivated mind. Any criminal, even 
up to a murderer, could escape punishment from the 
temporal power, by claiming his benefit of clergy, 
though he may have been already convicted in a law 
court. On setting up the claim, he was handed over 
to the ecclesiastical power, which, perhaps inflicting 
the terrific punishment of excommunication, let him 
run. If he was sufficiently learned to write his name, 
he was entitled to the benefit, though he might not be 
able to intelligibly read his Bible, or was beyond caring 



212 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

for its teaching if he could. And progressive Massa- 
chusetts seemed to have waked to a similar reverence 
for learning when in 1857 she amended her constitu- 
tion so as to deny the right of voting to those who 
could not read and write. 

Perhaps the benefit of clergy would have shed its 
sanctified light on our day had not that magnanimous 
sovereign, Henry VIII., shaken off the old popish har- 
ness because his Holiness would not sanction his 
villanies in the matrimonial line. The unswerving 
determination of Clement VII. to firmly oppose such 
great wrongs as those committed by Henry, made the 
Avorld stare, and should have been more justly repre- 
sented and more honored than it has been by some 
historians. When he knowingly lost the allegiance of 
a kingdom, by a course of unflinching justice, as in- 
stanced in the cases of Catharine of Aragon and Anne 
Boleyn, something better should be said than that he 
had no political sagacity and ^vas not fit to govern. 
It should have been said that he chose rather to lose 
England, with all her power, than sanction the dis- 
graceful immorality and meanness of her sovereign. 
But mankind have not yet arrived at that blessed con- 
dition where it is possible for some individuals to 
conceive that others can have such a strong sense of 
right that temporal advantage cannot overcome it. 
Such Ephraims do not understand how any one can 
do right merely because it is pleasing to God and 
their own consciences. 

• But we are admonished to draw this sketch to a 
close. Little has been said of Mr. Dexter's domestic 
relations, and little need be said. He did not rear a 
large family ; neither was he childless. A few very 
worthy descendants might be named, showing that 



THOMAS DEXTER. 213 

what was lacking in quantity was amply made up in 
quality. In most families the rule works the other way. 
When the head begins to whiten it is time for the 
asperities to begin to soften. But is not the reverse 
most frequently the case ? Mr, Dexter, in his old age, 
had the reputation of being somewhat testy. And he 
certainly did occasionally flourish his staff in a manner 
better calculated to repel than attract, and express his 
views in a tone that evinced little anxiety to keep his 
affairs private. Now an ill-tempered old man is a 
ver}^ pitiable object ; almost as much so as an ill-tem- 
pered old woman. But things are often called by 
wrong names. We are persuaded that our Subject 
was to a considerable extent misunderstood ; though 
we frankly admitted in the outset that, unfortunately, 
he was quick of temper ; a failing by no means always 
evidence of a bad heart. He grew old; and having 
been in his progress through life so constantly sub- 
jected to the rougher usage of fortune, to the super- 
ficial observer he might have seemed as if the kindlier 
sympathies of humanity had been beaten out of him. 
Yet, we insist upon it, he had a heart capable of being 
deeply touched by real wo. He would, indeed, like 
the great moralist who flourished a hundred and more 
years after him, laugh or scold at one who complained 
of the minor annoyances of life ; of heat or cold ; of ill 
or even scant fare ; of the ordinary aches and pains ; 
more especially, he gave no quarter to such as sufi'ered 
from wounded pride or defeated ambition. But no 
one was more ready than he to visit the widow and 
fatherless when truly afilicted, or to minister to all such 
as were in real distress of mind, body or estate. And 
are there not many such around us, who yet pass with 
the undiscerning as mean and unfeeling ? 



214 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

It is a great comfort to a man to have a high appre- 
ciation of his own value in the world. And besides 
being a comfort to himself, how agreeable it renders 
him to those with whom he associates. Very much is 
lost by undue modesty. And we are glad in being 
able to point to Mr. Dexter as one who. was not par- 
ticularly prone to the too common weakness of under- 
valuing himself. About all the great achievements in 
the world are effected by two classes : First, those 
who deem themselves mere instruments of Providence, 
placed here to accomplish certain work to which they 
are specially ordained, without any power of them- 
selves to change their course ; and being unceasingly 
guided towards the great object. These generally 
work with zeal, in view of meriting the high prize of 
the approbation of their great Director. Napoleon 
Bonaparte was one eminent example of this class. 
And Martin Luther was another. The second class 
embraces those who appear to think that they of them- 
selves are equal to any thing ever heard of in the world, 
and grapple with the greatest enterprises, as most wor- 
thy of their efforts, fully persuaded of their own power 
to will and to do. It is not necessary to give exam- 
ples of this class ; they are common enough all about. 
But it may be well to add that Mr. Dexter appears to 
have been by nature located with these latter. Mixed 
characters accomplish least. 

That Mr. Dexter was a little off the track occasion- 
ally, in other respects than those named, it should in 
honesty be admitted. But we are happy to believe 
that he sowed his wilder oats in early life. In the 
records of the Court held at Boston, October 1, 1633, 
we find this : " It is ordered that S'^ient Perkins shall 
carry 40 turfes to the ffort as a punishmt for drunkenes 



THOMAS DEXTER. 215 

by him comitted." And, " Also, it is ordered that 
Thomas Dexter shalbe ffined xxs. for the hke offence." 
It will be observed that this false step took place at a 
very early period. And though some twelve years 
afterward he appears to have been fined as " a common 
sleeper in meetings," we have abundant reason to 
conclude that he forswore his cups. Had he been an 
intemperate man, he certainly could not have accom- 
plished what he did, for we have the conclusive autho- 
rity of scripture for saying that such err in vision and 
stumble in judgment. And who Avill say that Mr. Dex- 
ter erred and stumbled in those ways, save in the few 
instances we have been faithful to name. No, no, 
he must have reformed, if, indeed the instance record- 
ed, were not a solitary instance of inebriation during 
his whole life — a mere inadvertence, such as happens 
not unfrequently in these days, according to the state- 
ments constantly heard in our courts. 

As has probably been inferred, Mr. Dexter was 
rather inclined to change in his pursuits. The adage, 
" A rolling stone gathers no moss," was as well known 
in his day as it is in this. But he was sensible enough 
to realize that the stone might have some pleasure in 
rolling, and that there were many things to be prized 
more highly than the moss of mammon. 

The normal state of man is laziness. Thus we see 
that in those countries where little or no exertion is 
nece'ssary to procure a livelihood, men pass their time 
basking in the sunshine, like crocodiles. Industry is 
one of the most excellent of all acquisitions, for it 
opens to the individual numerous sources of enjoy- 
ment and adds materially to the progress of the species. 
Mr. Dexter was a most industrious man. There was 
no stagnant blood in his vejns. And being shrewd 



216 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

enough to observe that those who work with their 
hands alone, generally remain in penury, he constantly 
availed himself of the efficient services of the brain. 
Both brain and hands were kept in vigorous motion. 
And we have seen something of what he accomplished. 
But it is a shame on any man to be industrious merely 
to accumulate wealth, to be hoarded up or expended in 
dainty food and costly raiment, to say nothing of more 
sensual indulgence. If no higher purpose can call 
one's energies into action they might as well remain 
dormant. We have seen how unselfish Mr. Dexter was, 
and how much he endeavored for the benefit of gen- 
erations that were to come after him. 

Notwithstanding the foibles — faults if we must so 
call them — that we have alluded to, Mr. Dexter ap- 
pears to have been esteemed a good neighbor and 
useful citizen. He did his full share in supporting the 
ministry, and was ready with his means to aid in evan- 
gelizing the heathen around him. And he strove hard 
to overcome the evil propensities of his nature. Many 
a time, when he felt himself most weak before the 
crafts and assaults of the Devil, did he in humble trust 
seek the christian counsel and prayers of the good 
minister, Mr. Whiting. Had it not been for that im- 
pulsive temper, he might have passed life more pleas- 
antly. But he fought bravely against the evil spirit to 
the end, and went to his final rest in the panoply of 
christian faith and hope. 



PHILIP KEIITLA.ND. 

" Some move with neither noise nor speed, 

along life's crooked path. 
Who yet may drop some wayside seed, 

that springs to mightie growth. ' ' 

Another jewel of the Third Plantation was Philip 
Kertland. He came during the first decade of the 
settlement, and is represented to have been the first 
shoemaker in Lynn. From this circumstance, if for 
no other reason we feel in duty bound to do some- 
thing in honor of his memory. Little appears on the 
regular records, concerning him, and for most that we 
are able to state we are indebted to casual notes and 
traditions. His is said to be a German name, the 
translation of which is Lack-land. But he did not 
long lack land after coming here, for ten acres were 
granted him in 1638. 

All New England, yea, the whole country should 
make obeisance to the Third Plantation, and do rev- 
erence to Philip Kertland ; the first, because she early 
encouraged ingenuity and enterprise ; and the latter, 
because he spent his best energies in perfecting a 
most useful art. And both their names should be 
exalted for the blessings conferred by the establish- 
ment of that great branch of American industry from 
which has been derived so much wealth to one class 
and comfort to all others. Lynn not only encouraged 
J (217) 



218 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

the mannfacturo of shoes at an early period, but also 
that of various kinds of leather. Here was first estab- 
lished the manufacture of those beautiful moroccos 
that used to adorn the feet of the belles of olden 
time, and are devoted to so many elegant purposes, 
at the present day, besides the protection of beautiful 
feet. 

Of Mr. Kertland's early life we need say but little; 
though one or two remarkable things require some 
notice. It may be observed that when about five 
years old, he one day strayed into his father's pasture, 
to indidge for a while in the boyish pastime of twitch- 
ing a bull's tail. Perhaps, however, he was, like a 
young philosopher, endeavoring to elucidate the prob- 
lem as to how far such an animal might be thrown by 
the caudal appendage, for he had often heard his 
father, who was quite a moralist, allude to such grace- 
ful experiments. But whatever his object was, the 
bull does not appear to have favored its furtherance. 
He gave a kick that sent little Philip rolling like an 
ill-shaped ball, into a ditch. By this accident the nose 
was so damaged that it ever after sat awry. His per- 
sonal appearance was thereby somewhat impaired; but 
beyond that and a slight difficulty in compassing a 
genteel sneeze, he perhaps experienced no evil. For 
most purposes it was as good a nose as need be. A 
handsome man is an ornament to any community. 
And in those rare cases where beauty of character is 
added we behold an object envied by men and adored 
by women ; for we do not accept the slanderous decla- 
ration of the ostentatious moralist, regarding the latter, 
that with them, character never rules in competition 
with person. 

It certainly must be confessed that Mr. Kertland 



PHILIP KERTLAND, 219 

was not a handsome man, and we shall not rest his 
claims upon his beauty. But speaking of personal 
appearance leads to the remark that it seems very 
foolish for people to cry out so against what they 
unfortunately denominate pride of person. But then 
envy will rankle in the human breast, and the tongue" 
of slander will wag. There is not an individual living,' 
in full possession of his senses, who does not feel the 
influence of personal charms. It is thought commend- 
able to admire a beautiful landscape, or even a picture 
of it, or a piece of marble chiseled out in graceful 
form. Why, then, is it wrong to do homage to beauty 
in the most dignified object of creation? Personal 
beauty will often purchase what no money can ; and is 
it not, in its nature, of quite as much value as money? 

Martin Luther spoke of beauty as a noble gift, and 
added, " God commonly gives riches to gross asses, to 
whom he can afford nothing else." Perhaps it was 
well for Christianity that he was thus susceptible, for 
the smiles of a pretty nun inflamed his zeal for the 
Reformation. The shrewd Cobbett remarked that the 
surest thing to make a. man feel good natured all day 
is for him to look upon a handsome face in a night-cap, 
beside him, in the morning. There is much truth in 
these things. The arguments of bright eyes and rosy 
cheeks have overcome many a man when nothing else 
on earth could. The Avisest are not above their influ- 
ence. Look at Solomon. Handsome men, as well as 
handsome women are the most successful in life. And 
now, reader, what would you take in exchange for 
those personal charms of yours ? 

Mr. Laighton, of whom we said something in our 
sketch of Thomas Dexter, appears to have been on 
very friendly terms with Mr. Kertland. The two spent 



220 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

many profitable hours in discussing great philosophical 
principles as well as important theological points, some- 
times in one of their shops, and sometimes in the shade 
of a tree. Mr. Kertland became a thorough convert 
to Mr. Laighton's maxim that no rogue can look an 
honest man straight in the eye, and that all who can 
look others straight in the eye are honest. And the 
following little incident will illustrate the benefit he 
derived on one occasion at least, from his adherence 
to the maxim : 

A sort of fair was to be held at Boston, and Mr. 
Kertland went up for the purpose of purchasing a new 
milch cow. He shrewdly suspected that there might 
be rogues about on such an occasion, and made bold 
to proclaim his suspicions to all the assembly, adding, 
however, that he defied them all to cheat him, as the 
maxim, which he discreetly repeated, would enable 
him to keep safe from any rogue in the crowd. Hav- 
ing thus defined his position, he began to look round, 
all the while keeping his eyes wide open, for the return 
gaze of the honest ones who might be straying there. 
Presently he discovered a tidy looking brindle with a 
lusty calf by her side. And he was delighted to find 
that the man in whose keeping they were, could look 
him straight in the eye. Without much haggling a 
bargain was concluded. Having a little other business 
to transact, he requested the vendor to keep his pur- 
chase in charge till he returned. This was kindly 
agreed to. 

Having concluded his other business, Mr. Kertland 
returned, and there stood the cow, but the calf was 
gone. Not suspecting any trick of trade, he desired 
the man to trot out the calf and he would be gone, for 
his way was long and the clouds betokened rain. 



Philip kertland. 221 

With well feigned surprise the honest drover rephed 
that he did not sell the calf, for the very good reason 
that it was not his ; neither did the little beauty belong 
to the cow. It had been borrowed from a neighboring 
stall, and now was baciv with its mamma whose anxious 
lowings during its absence had greatly disturbed their 
tender hearts. And the conscientious man further 
reminded his customer that not one word was said by 
him about the calf while they were negotiating. With 
great frankness, however, he admitted that his cus- 
tomer did remark that a cow with a calf just ready for 
the butcher was exactly what he wanted, and that he 
felt of little red-and-white and commended his fatness. 
But he did not feel himself bound to respond to the 
compliments paid to the calf. And with some warmth 
the man concluded by reiterating that the cow only 
was sold, and the calf had already gone back to its 
restless parent, and he did not see why he should 
be held responsible for the purchaser's being deceived 
by appearances. Were not appearances often deceit- 
ful? They were so; Mr. Whiting had fixed that fact 
by a luminous discourse which he had preached on 
the very Lord's-day before. 

Mr. Kertland felt the force of the drover's curt rea- 
soning, and his anger was wonderfully softened. But 
he was greatly puzzled, after all. The man looked 
him straight in the eye while speaking, and expressed 
regret that he should have been deceived. Yet it 
was clear that he had not only been deceived, but 
grossly cheated. The drover would not hear to any 
proposition to rescind the bargain, for, as he said, the 
day was far spent and another customer might not 
appear. 

Mr. Kertland's perplexity again developed itself in 



222 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

extreme anger. And he promptly announced bis deter- 
mination to whip every one present. A crowd began 
to gather. Presently, at the suggestion of a peace-mak- 
ing though perhaps thirsty individual, a reference was 
agreed on. There was no difficulty in selecting three 
arbitrators, for Mr. Kertland had but one test of their 
honesty, and the first that presented themselves could 
look in the attractive direction demanded by the test. 
The drover himself offered no objection, to those fixed 
on, for they were all brother drovers. The red faced 
trio chosen seated themselves on the edge of a horse 
trough, the owner of the calf acting as chairman, and 
had the points in dispute formally presented to them. 

In fifteen or twenty minutes, after leaning thought- 
fully over a pig-pen and conferring in an under tone, 
the arbitrators announced their determination of the 
weighty matter. Their conclusion was that Mr. Kert- 
land had bought the cow and could not annul the 
bargain ; that he had not bought the calf, and conse- 
quently the calf was not his; that though there had 
been a grievous mistake, it was yet attributable to his 
own laches, and he could not take advantage of his 
own mistake to the damage of his innocent opponent. 
After announcing this luminous verdict, they had the 
magnanimity to add, that, considering all the facts 
named and the additional one that the drover had suc- 
ceeded in disposing of a most miserable beast at an 
enormous price, he, the drover, should treat all hands. 
The friendl}'- individual' Avho had suggested the arbitra- 
tion clapped his hands in approbation, and the whole 
crowd seemed to be well satisfied, particularly with 
the concluding requisition. They at once adjourned 
to the neighboj-ing house of entertainment. 

Mr. Kertland stood for a few moments with his hands 



PHILIP KERTLAND. 223 

behind his back, in mute perplexity. But light soon 
appeared to break upon him. He joined the company, 
and a jolly time they had of it. He did not reach 
home till midnight. And when at that late hour he 
came down the street driving his cow and singing at 
the top of his voice, it was evident that he felt well 
pleased with the adventures of the day. 

For some time he tried to coax a little milk from the 
aged quadruped that had thus fallen on his hands. The 
first day, she dispensed about a pint ; the second, half 
as much ; the third, half as much as that ; the fourth, 
half an egg-shell full ; and that was the last drop she 
ever vouchsafed. 

Singular as it may seem, this experience did not in 
the least shake his faith in the Laightonian maxim. In- 
deed his faith was strengthened, though his heart sank, 
when he discovered that the cow herself, through whom 
the mischief had come, could not look him straight in 
the eye. Whenever he endeavored to catch a direct 
glance her head would swing some other way. 

Mr. Kertland, though he did not live in absolute 
penury, was by no means a rich man. He was too 
benevolent to be rich; besides being, like all men of 
genius, rather improvident. We must never look for 
good financiers among men of genius or great mind. 
The amusement said to have been caused at one time 
on the exchange, by an unsophisticated holder endea- 
voring to raise money on a note of Daniel Webster, 
endorsed by Rufus Choate afibrds an illustration of 
the value of mind in the haunts of mammon. The latch- 
string of Mr. Kertland's door Avas always out for the , 
grasp of the needy and the stranger. And he was 
never backward in lending a hapd to a neighbor, even 
though his own affairs might be suffering for attention. 



224 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Some considered liira ratlier too ready to volunteer 
his services in other people's affairs ; but we are per- 
suaded that this conduct arose from the overflowing 
benevolence of his heart. And however objectionable 
this propensity to interfere in the concerns of others 
may be held to be, is it not attributable to the con- 
sciousness possessed by most of us that we are better 
judges of the affairs of others than they themselves? 
And that being the case with Mr. Kertland, for in- 
stance, we see how naturally he must have conceived 
such intermeddling to be a part of his duty. 

The great Shoe Trade of New England, now one of 
the most profitable and extensive industrial pursuits 
ever known in the country, had a bumble beginning. 
Mr. Kertland's shop was a rude adjunct to his lowly 
habitation which cowered in a little hollow on the 
north side of the winding road that was the original 
of what is now the beautiful Boston street of Lynn. 
The interior was some twelve feet square, and innocent 
alike of plaster or wainscot. It had two diminutive 
sashes, and the light had to struggle vigorously to get 
through the little knotty panes that from appearance 
might have fulfilled one destiny as the bottoms of Ger- 
man wine bottles. The chimney ran up on the outside, 
at the northeast corner, and was so extremely rough 
and angular that the poor smoke found it a hard road 
to travel. And the little triangular fire place, within, 
was flanked by cutting-board and backless seat. A 
wooden block sat in front for the convenience of cus- 
tomers and visiters ; and many and many a time did 
it bear the weighty forms of Zachariah Hart, Obadiah 
Turner, Thomas Newhall, Oliver Purchis, Thomas Dex- 
ter, Thomas Laighton, and the godly "Whiting. 

For a part of the time Mr. Kertland had little or 



PHIUP KERTLAND. 225 

nothing to do, at bis trade. He would then attend to 
small farming, fishing, or other useful labor. At other 
times he was so much driven by work that he would 
be obliged to call to his aid a couple of ingenious 
boys who knew something of the rudimental mysteries 
of shoemaking. There also lived in the neighborhood 
of Saugus river a cross-eyed man, who had some know- 
ledge of the art ; and he too, under extraordinary pres- 
sure, was induced occasionally to make a breach in his 
habitual laziness and take hold for a few hours. 

Mr. Kertland took commendable pride in his calling 
and really did much to advance the art. He has been 
known to pay a ruinous price for a newly fashioned 
shoe from abroad, that he might dissect it and study 
the hidden mysteries of its beauty. And he once made 
a journey to Virginia to visit a celebrated shoemaker 
who was for a short time tarrying there. By such 
means he gained a high reputation, and customers 
from other places began to appear. At one time his 
trade was so extensive that he had to visit Boston and 
Salem at least once a month with a large bag of shoes 
on his shoulder. 

What we have said shows the small beginning of 
a business which has steadily grown through two 
centuries and more till it has reached such gigantic 
proportions that by an honest and careful estimate not 
less than thirty millions of pairs of boots, and shoes 
were manufactured on the very territory that consti- 
tuted the old Third Plantation, during the five years 
ending with 1860 — or about the same number that 
would be required to furnish every man woman and 
child now in the United States with one pair. And is 
not this something that will bear a little boasting? 

About the worst thing that we have learned of Mr. 
J* 15 



226 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

Kertland is that he was not always courteous to cus- 
tomers ; a bad failing in any tradesman. Like many 
others, he was apt, when a reflection was cast on his 
merchandise, by a purchaser, to side at once with the 
merchandise, resenting the indignity in terms more 
expressive than choice. One day while fitting a pair 
of shoes to the feet of a lady, she strongly insisted 
that his shoes were too small ; and he as strongly insist- 
ed that her feet were too large. The wordy quarrel 
waxed warm, to the edification of the grinning boys. 
Presently the application of his oratory was shifted 
from her feet to her head. He ridiculed her enormous 
head-dress, eagle-feathers, and eel-skin rosetts ; angrily 
intimating, among other indecorous allusions, that ac- 
cording to his way of thinking, Indian moccasins would 
better comport with such a display, than shoes. Now 
it happened that this lady was the wife of one in autho- 
rity. And could it be expected that his slanderous 
tongue should so wag unpunished? By no means. The 
very next lecture day found him in durance, near the 
meeting house, for two hours, with the unruly member 
in a cleft stick. And are there no imprudent young 
shop-keepers at this day who might be benefited by 
such a wholesome experience ? 

We find one most extraordinary thing recorded re- 
garding Mr. Kertland, which we cannot forbear alluding 
to, even at the hazard of being thought inclined to talk 
of wonders. We understand it, however, to relate to 
his early life. It is asserted that it was physically 
impossible for him, under ordinary circumstances, to 
appear uncleanly in person, his flesh possessing a 
powerful repulsion to all filthiness. This was noticed 
long before he appeared remarkable for any thing else. 
It is related that during one of his school vacations, 



PHIL3P KEETLAND. 227 

when much of his valuable time was devoted to the 
healthful employment of constructing mud mills and 
transporting the material in his hat, he did not wash 
his face for thirteen days. Yet he appeared fresh and 
clean as the rose " which Mary to Anna conveyed." 
Sometimes, for the gratification of curious neighbors, 
his parents would adorn his cheeks and arms with 
charcoal sketches, and very soon, without being touch- 
ed, they would all disappear. By such facts we confess 
to having been greatly puzzled. But they may per- 
haps be accounted for by supposing that there was 
such an extremely healthful action in his system that 
impurities were driven off with a speed unknown in 
common cases. No doubt there is a natural tendency 
in the human body to repel all foreign substances. 
Disease must weaken the repelling power ; and the 
power being in proportion to the degree of health, it 
follows that where the health is perfect the propulsion 
will be immediate, and where there is no health dirt 
will stick eternally if artificial means are not resorted 
to for its removal. This doctrine is no doubt cor- 
rect, in a general sense. The eminent Boyle speaks 
of the constant passing of corpuscles out through the 
skin. And now if all these things be so, what an ex- 
traordinary degree of health must have blessed the 
early days of Mr. Kertland. 

But our imperfect sketch must be drawn to a close. 
It is true that we have not had many extraordinary 
things to relate of Mr. Kertland. Yet, as he passed a 
useful and on the whole exemplary life he has a better 
title to the enduring smiles of Fame than many whose 
names flaunt high, upon her scroll. Scarcely an indi- 
vidual goes down to the grave, whose biography, if 
penned by an honest and skillful hand, would not be 



228 NOTABLE PEOPLE. 

found deeply interesting and instructive, however hum- 
ble the life may have been or barren of stirring incident. 
We are all interested in seeing how others acquit them- 
selves in the common affairs of life, for with the same 
realities we ourselves are struggling. 

It has not been an object in these sketches, always 
to choose the most conspicuous characters to dwell 
upon, for it is ver}' far from being true that the most 
conspicuous are always the most meritorious. And, 
besides, there are enough others to laud and magnify 
the already renowned. Circumstances often conspire, 
in a most unaccountable manner, to make one man 
famous, while his neighbor, infinitely better endowed, 
passes his life in obscurity. We feel justified in laud- 
ing such of the early settlers as we have been able to 
speak of. They were a hardy and self-sacrificing race ; 
pious, industrious and prudent ; a people inspired by 
holier motives than the greed of gain. What, indeed, 
would have been the condition of New England, at the 
present day, had the early planters possessed no more 
ennobling traits than do most of this mammon seeking 
and mammon worshipping generation ? And we close 
with the pertinent question — 

What would the good old Third Plantation have 
come to without such jewels as Zachariah Hart, 
Obadiah Turner, Thomas Newhall, Oliver Purchis, 
Thomas Dextee and Philip Keetland? 



PA.RT II. 



NOTABLE THINGS 



OP 



OLDEIS" TIME. 



" la the gray morn and purple eve, 

Spirit of Thought! 
O lead me to those dim old rustic shrines 
My fathers loved. Recall their lusty forms. 
And let me ponder on their worthy acts; 
Teach me to emulate their dignity, 
And prosecute life's nobler aims ! " 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

In a volume of such design as the one now in the 
hand of the reader, it would be a marked omission 
not to treat, to some extent, of Things as well as Per- 
sons. Yet, in all historical illustrations, the images of 
the two departments so mingle together that it is to 
a great degree impossible to present them in any very 
distinguishing light. The scenes and actors must con- 
stantly appear together. And perhaps the most that 
can be done is to endeavor, when treating professedly 
of Persons, to place them in the strongest light, and 
when treating of Things, to pursue a similar course. 

(229) 



230 NOTABLE THINGS. 

In the present case, certainly, the reader will recognise 
the propriety of the divisions we speak of, whatever 
may be his opinion of the manner in which we acquit 
ourselves. 

In our biographical sketch of Obadiah Turner, we 
gave copious extracts from his interesting journal. 
Mention is made by him of numerous localities and 
institutions that in after years became famous ; and 
not a few occurrences are treated of, the results of 
which were subsequently reckoned of leading impor- 
tance. And it is not difficult to trace some of our 
cherished customs and institutions to the small befrin- 
nings of that period. No history can be more profit- 
able than that which, while it inculcates pure morality, 
impresses useful lessons in the philosophy of life. Our 
brief details, we trust, will secure the reader's atten- 
tion; and the few reflections intermingled may not 
prove altogether destitute of value. 

We love to go back to the quaint days of our fathers ; 
to the days of blue leggins and leather small-clothes ; 
of huge bonnets that hid the face of innocence and 
beauty from every rude gaze ; of gowns of tow cloth 
which the wearer's own hand had woven, and which 
were worn with no expansion of skirt beyond what 
was necessary for grace and ease of step. We love to 
think of their intrepidity in meeting perils and their 
uncomplaining submission to sore privation. No other 
people ever on earth were like them ; so brave in the 
battle of life ; so devoted and trusting in spirit. And 
is it not pleasant and profitable to mark the growth of 
those good things which they originated and by their 
virtuous heroism guarded and nurtured, and which 
have come down to bless our own generation? 




^^^ ^^^ai|^S),!w ^^^M:-i^^^ 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND: A. D. 1 6/9. 
Page 78 ; also pp. 231 to 282. 



THE 
OLD BTTRYIlSra aHOUND. 

" Though storms and winds rule high in air, 

And men's rough passions rave, 
Calm rest the weary sleepers here. 

Safe in the dreamless grave !" 

For a period quite beyond the memory of all living, 
the quaint name that we have placed above, has dis- 
tinguished a consecrated spot in the western part of 
Lynn — a spot which by its beautiful location, its 
numerous trees and its neat monuments, never fails to 
attract the attention of travelers. In our extracts 
from the journal of Mr. Turner, it will be observed 
that under date of 1653, he speaks of *'y® buryal 
place." And it seenis quite certain that he can refer 
to no other than this. The history of this interesting 
spot so runs back into the obscurities of past time that 
the period when it was first devoted to its sacred pur- 
poses does not certainly appear. For generation after 
generation it has remained a revered spot. And could 
the tongues that lie here in the cold silence of death 
be reanimated, what a history they might disclose. 

In the modern cemetery one sees costly monuments 
assigning to the dead virtues above the power of 
mortal attainment; — fond conceits of mourning love. 
And the rich tablet, to the humble mind, too often 
seems but ostentatious evidence of human pride. To 
the gray old stones that rise beside the resting places 

(231) 



232 NOTABLE THINGS. 

of New England's early dead we turn. Upon their 
mossy fronts, in few and simple words are touching 
lessons to the heart, and worthy histories. 

To the contemplative mind there is a serious 'and 
enduring satisfaction in retiring from the scenes of 
busy life to spend a tranquil hour in the community 
of those Avho are no longer disturbed by the murmur- 
ing of the waves of care nor by the raging of the 
storms of passion on the shore of time. To such a 
mind the ancient churchyard is most hallowed ground. 
Here, retired from the turmoil and vexations of a 
heartless world, and from the gaze of earth's unfeeling 
devotees, he reads upon the green sward and lettered 
stone a history of bygone years. He looks upon the 
grave of honorable manhood and blesses him who was 
a blessing to his kind ; upon the grave of childhood, 
and with grateful aspirations that the tender plant has 
been removed to bloom in brighter spheres than earth 
affords, mingles an emotion of sorrow for the mourning 
hearts from whom its light and love have been with- 
drawn. 

Men would not be harmed by retiring more often to 
such a place, to muse upon their course and destiny. 
Were they accustomed so to do, many of the rough 
passages of life would be made more smooth, for they 
would be led to perceive the hollowness of all earth's 
promises, hopes and attainments, and learn to lean 
with more confiding faith on those promises which 
concern a nobler life. 

Some men have such enlarged and comprehensive 
minds, that they look forward, even beyond the bounds 
of time, to estimate the effects of their present con- 
duct. But most men are so circumscribed in their 
contemplations that a few years entirely close up the 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 233 

view. Yet a hundred years will roll away just as 
certainly as five. And 1865 is no more sure to come 
than 1965. Time is not the substance of things. 

Let the groveler in the path to wealth come hither 
at the solemn hour when " fades the glimmering land- 
scape on the sight," and consider the purpose and end 
of his care and toil. How deluded, to turn from the 
true and only road to happiness, the training of the 
unearthly powers of mind, to chase the ignis fatuus 
that dances along the quagmires by the wayside. The 
ability to obtain happiness from the mere possession 
of wealth is not an attribute of the human soul. Why 
then bend its powers to such ignoble purposes? Why 
spend a life in gathering that which cannot make more 
happy here, which can afford no barrier to the shaft 
of death, nor purchase entrance to more joyous realms? 
That sanctified petition, " Give me neither poverty nor 
riches," contains a world of wisdom, and of instruction 
for the seeker after happiness. Without heed to its 
spirit all our efforts are vain. And in an enlarged 
view, what community can be more happy than that in 
which all have enough and none too much. If such a 
community exists they are in a position to enjoy the 
greatest amount of temporal felicity attainable by 
mankind. Men who ceaselessl}'' toil for wealth spend 
their energies for means instead of an end ; that is, 
instead of enjoying life as it passes, making use of 
their gains as means for enjoyment, they harrass them- 
selves by unceasing endeavor to continue the accumu- 
lation of means, and finally end a miserable life with- 
out ever applj'ing them to an end. By such a course 
riches have no more power to impart happiness than 
wind blown into the nostrils of a statue has power to 
impart life. 



234 NOTABLE THINGS. 

Let the aspirant for fame and worldly honor come 
hither, and contemplate the end of all his daily toils 
and nightly vigils. What though wondering millions 
speak his praise and on his fevered broAV the laurel 
wreath be twined. Remember that the trump of fame 
sounds not beyond the borne of time, and that the 
wings of mortal praise can never waft one to a happier 
sphere. 

And hither let us all come ; high and low ; rich and 
poor ; learned and ignorant. Let us come and consider 
our ways, remembering that our earthly pilgrimage is 
soon to close ; and remembering too that as we lie 
down, so must Ave rise again. And may we so order 
our ways, that, lying down as after a long day of wea- 
riness and labor, we may rise as from a refreshing 
sleep, disciplined and inspired for a loftier race. 

When one seriously reflects on death, it would seem 
as if he could not reasonably entertain any fear of it, 
but must regard it as a mere transition from one state 
of existence to another; a passage which Ave all must 
make. And is not he irrational as well as deficient in 
moral coui-age and christian faith, Avho shrinks from 
meeting, Avith bold front, Avhat he cannot avoid? But is 
it the thought of an hereafter that makes men dread 
death? What dutiful child of a loving Father, can 
fear a more pitiable condition hereafter than is com- 
monly experienced here? And who even is prepared 
to say that the quietude of annihilation is not to be 
preferred to the troubles and perplexities that most 
experience in this life ? 

In this venerable gathering place of the dead are 
congregated the Avorthies Avho sat in council over the 
infant interests of the Plantation; the fathers Avho 



THE OLD BUEYING GROUND. 235 

reared the first dwellings in the shades of the forest ; 
the mothers who watched over the first born; the 
young men and maidens who, of all the pale race, first 
sought these romantic glens and vales, wherein alone to 
plight their vow^s. And here are those who have shone 
as bright stars in the councils of the nation; those 
who have broken the bread of life for the hungry pen- 
itent ; as well as countless hosts of humbler souls who 
loved to tread these hills and shores. And here, too, 
have the sons and daughters of far-off lauds lain down 
their weary heads with the tears of strangers alone to 
fall upon their graves. 

What are our feelings as we pause among the graves 
of the earliest tenants of this consecrated spot? A 
thousand images, these reveling in living beauty, and 
those dimly discovered by the torch of history or 
transiently delineated by the flickering glow of tradi- 
tion, are arrayed before us. 

How changed are all things around since their foot- 
steps brushed the dews of these fields and impressed 
the sands of these shores. A fair and busy city has 
arisen from the forest shades. The holy psean of the 
christian church now sounds where only the wild sav- 
age chant was heard. These waters, which to their 
eyes presented an unbroken field of blue, are now 
enlivened by the broad white wings that waft rich 
argosys. The thunders of war have echoed over 
them and the earthquake has rocked them in their 
dreamless sleep. One by one their kindred and neigh- 
bors were gathered around them, and long have the 
winds of heaven moaned a dirge over their whole 
generation. More than two hundred times has the 
snowy mantle of winter been spread and the sweet gar- 
niture of spring been renewed upon their lowly beds. 



236 NOTABLE THINGS. 

But all things are not thus changed. We look upon 
the heavens and they are the same. Yon evening star 
shines with the same mild lustre to guide us in our 
musing walk, that it did to light them along the forest 
path. The deep music of the ocean harp rolls along 
these embattled shores in the same mighty strains for 
our generation that it did for theirs, and the rugged 
hills and cliffs echo it back as faithfully. And, above 
all these, the same God who led them through the perils 
of their lone heritage, conducts our footsteps in the less 
trying though more dangerous paths of prosperity and 
among the hazardous refinements of more artificial 
life. 

It is uncertain, as before intimated, at what precise 
period these few acres were first occupied as a burial 
place. But it must have been in the early times of 
the Plantation. For many years, however, the space 
remained unenclosed, and the graves were dug here 
and there among the trees. Finally a rude stone wall 
was erected to prevent the intrusion of straying beasts. 
And that in good time gave place to a more comely 
erection. 

A century ago the Ground was almost bare of trees. 
The remnants of the old forest had vanished one by 
one like vexed ghosts, and little or nothing had been 
done towards supplying their places. The numerous 
cherry trees that now adorn the sacred precincts, have 
appeared within some forty years. And singular as it 
may seem they sprang from seeds transported hither 
by the birds ; as if those winged watchers would have 
bowers in which to carol over the dead, or would 
gently hint to men their duty. 

The oldest grave-stone now standing bears the name 
of " lohn Clifford," and the date 1G98. All the earlier 



THE OLD BUEYING GROUND. 237 

monuments and tablets have long since disappeared; 
though it is not probable that many of enduring mate- 
rial existed. Simple erections of wood no doubt for 
many years marked the resting places of loved ones ; 
but these decayed and vanished. Unsculptured stones 
were reared by other graves, and some simple mounds 
of earth ; and these were removed as more ambitious 
monuments appeared. 

This particular spot was devoted to the purposes of 
burial more perhaps from the convenience of its loca 
tion than any other consideration. At that periou 
little was thought of choosing a resting place for the 
dead where the beauties of nature might attract the 
thoughtful, or where the mourner's heart might find 
relief in contemplating the departed as resting in a 
pleasant place. Yet, whatever may have been the pur- 
pose in the selection, the spot chosen was in truth a 
lovely one. A small pond lay upon the south and west, 
and many hale old forest trees looked down admiringly 
upon their gigantic forms mirrored in the placid \vater. 
The white lilies unfolded their perfumed leaves and 
gay birds sailed quietly about. The oak, pine, and 
cedar reared their stately forms, unconscious that the 
new race who had come to occupy the land would 
soon lay them low with as unpitying strokes as those 
dealt to their own kind found upon the soil. And 
sweetly the evening dew distilled through fragrant 
branches and profusely blooming shrubbery, upon the 
early graves. 

True it is that even down to our day, this sacred 
spot has never been in a condition to boast of much 
artificial embellishment. But it may long have boasted 
of what is far better. Beneath these unadorned stones 
lies as noble dust as that beneath the Roman marble. 



238 NOTABLE THINGS. 

And when the earth and sea give up their dead, there 
will arise from these graves, those with whom warriors 
and kings, statesmen and philosophers, men whose 
names stand high on the historic page, would gladly 
change conditions. 

The power of intellectual association has always 
been recognised, however deeply hidden its channels 
of operation. The slightest emotion within, or occur- 
rence without, Avill sometimes reopen vast provinces 
of thought, recalling every feature of the mental land- 
scape in pristine freshness and beauty. The perfume 
of a particular flower or a certain strain of music may 
possess this talismanic power. Some tone in a stran- 
ger's voice may call up old loves ; some landscape 
feature, long forgotten scenes. 

There are some who possess such original and ab- 
stract natures that their outward acts receive tone and 
coloring essentially, though not entirely, of themselves. 
But with the great mass of mankind the conceptions 
are shaped by the outward aspect of nature, the influ- 
ence of other minds, and the shifting scenes of life. 

Sometimes there arise in the common mind, dreamily 
mingling with the present, long departed phantoms, 
diverse in their nature and intensity. And thence 
flow those checkered, indefinite notions that so fre- 
quently dance about in fantastic and incomprehensible 
shapes. But at other times, and in more cultivated 
minds, the departed return in order and fidelity, illus- 
trating the present and imparting strength for the 
future. 

And how few possess a full realization of the dignity 
of their higher nature, of the powers of mind. But 
more especially how few realize the enduring effects, 



THE OLD BUEYIXG GROUND. 239 

the remote sequences, of their acts and even thoughts. 
Future ages may be moved by what the most humble 
soul may execute or conceive. A thought, springing 
up today, may be acted upon, and go forth, inspiring 
and setting in motion other minds, expanding and 
accumulating power, till, in future time, it may turn 
the world upside down. And that thought may have 
been born of some rude wayfarer. And may it not be 
that among those who lie here, awaiting the resurrec- 
tion, there are those whose conceptions have brought 
about some of the great things which are the boast of 
this generation? 

When one quits the world, how little can be known 
of the good or evil he has done. The great account 
cannot be closed up till time shall cease. And can it 
even then? Are not the consequences of his acts 
done here, felt in other souls through all eternity? 

In view of these things, what dignity belongs to 
every man and what responsibility rests upon him. 
How ought he to live ? The faithful soul may take 
fresh courage for his race ; for, however humble here, 
his name may yet stand high upon the records of a 
better land. By tender persuasions he may have 
draAvn, by holy examples lighted, other souls in the 
path of true life. And can he fail of reward ? 

Just where that little freshly blooming cherry grows, 
were laid the remains of Deborah Armitage. In 1679 
she was, and for many years had been, traveling about 
Lynn and the neighboring towns, gaining an honest 
pittance by selling herbs and a few simple medicinal 
preparations. She was decrepit, and much indebted to 
her well worn staff, though not exactly the subject of 
any great suffering. Her apparel was comfortable 



240 NOTABLE THINGS. 

though by no means exempt from evidences of long 
service. The bonnet of rusty black, and the dingy 
brown shawl, which the kind Mrs. Whiting had given 
her half a score of 3'ears before, she continued to wear 
in grateful remembrance of the donor. And the cloak 
of coarse woolen cloth reaching to her ankles, with a 
girdle of leather and an immense hood, which she don- 
ned when winter's blasts were howling, was the gift of 
the young sisters of the parish. 

In the woods, Aunt Deborah gathered her sassafras, 
gold-thread and checkerberry. In her little garden 
she raised her sage, rue and wormwood. By the road- 
side she found her catnip and yellow dock. And the 
meadows supplied her sweet flag root and rosemary. 
The few bottles of eye-water that she took in her bas- 
ket were distilled by her own fireside. And the few 
boxes of salve for wounds and bruises were made by 
her own hands. 

From Monday to Saturday, in sunshine and storm, 
she traveled hither and thither, diligent in her humble 
calling. Every one knew her as an honest, pious and 
simple hearted dame, with tears always ready to flow 
at a tale of suffering, and hands ever ready to do their 
utmost in charity. To many a sick bed did she find 
her way with words of christian comfort which to the 
trusting soul did more good than her herbs and con- 
coctions. She was never turned from a door, but 
often bidden to tarry for a meal or lodging; for her 
presence was deemed a good omen. Yet it turned 
out that she sometimes made her bed in a barn and 
supped upon a crust, for she had a delicate fear of 
intruding on the hospitality of others. 

Little children were not afraid to lean upon Aunt 
Deborah's knee or have her smooth their flaxen heads. 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 241 

And with delight would they gather around her, seated 
on their little crickets, to hear her tell how good boys 
and girls were rewarded and wicked ones punished. 

The home of Aunt Deborah was a small rustic cot 
at the edge of the woods, with a brave little brook 
working its weedy way in front and an unassuming 
garden patch in the rear. Some messes of early veg- 
etables and a store of herbs for winter sales were her 
reward for the few hours of toil that she could devote 
to her modest husbandry. Along the wall the flaunt- 
ing leaves of the horseradish and burdock spread ; 
golden saffron heads peered among fantastic weeds ; 
and precious mint struggled bravely among the knotty 
grass. 

From the noon of Saturday to the dawn of Monday 
Aunt Deborah was never absent from home, save to 
visit those who were in need, sickness or other adver- 
sity, or to attend the services of the sanctuary. And 
she loved to see the villagers who in their evening 
walks so often called. The pious had their own zeal 
inflamed by her warmth, and the careless had their 
hearts awakened by her gentle warnings. Her tattered 
and blurred Bible was a fountain head of comfort. 
And it was delightful to see her earnest struggles to 
light in other hearts such holy fires as burned in hers. 
And, we doubt not, eternity will testify that she, un- 
learned and simple, opened many a sleeping eye, roused 
many a sluggish soul. 

The good minister loved to linger beneath her roof, 
not because a tankard of her best herb brewing awaited 
his thirsty lips, nor because when he remained to sup, 
the whitest cloth that tow could make was spread 
upon the little round table and the choice cup with its 
edge of blue and the silver spoon which had come to 
K . 16 



242 NOTABLE TmxnS. 

her as a precious heirloom, were brought forth, but 
because he might reanimate his own faith by the hea- 
venly glow of hers, and from her meek and unaffected 
grace learn to guide his own steps. Alone, by night 
and by day, she passed many hours. But no fears 
disturbed her trustful spirit. Upon her solitary bed 
she lay in the still hours of night, fearing no harm, 
but gratefully contemplating the merciea and promises 
of her great Piotector. 

Aunt Deborah, or Aunt Armitage, as she was indis- 
criminately called, must have been quite aged at the 
time we mentioned, for it was more than thirty years 
that she had continued her lowly traffick, selling her 
herbs and scattering the precious seeds of christian 
truth and love. Many of the sick were relieved by her, 
and many of the depraved renewed, in that long time. 

The winter of 1680 was one of great severity. The 
cold set in early, and before Christmas, the streams 
and ponds were frozen up, not again to be released till 
the warm fingers of spring touched them. A great 
body of snow fell, and the ground was not seen for 
three months. There never had been a better time 
for getting wood from within and beyond the swamps ; 
a fact made apparent by the enormous piles in many 
door yards. 

But our persevering old friend was not often pre- 
vented from pursuing her accustomed rounds. Not 
unfrequently night overtook her trudging along the* 
crisp and crackling path from Salem Tillage or Mai- 
den, the cutting wind ruthlessly dashing aside her 
great hood, that it might bestow a rough kiss upon 
her wrinkled brow. Her long cloak stood her in good 
stead, as did a pair of thick gray leggins, the gift of 
Dame Purchis; and a pair of enormous moccasins, 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 243 

manufactured of the uncurried skin of a wild animal, 
and presented by an old Indian woman whom she had 
befriended. 

About the middle of January, one of the most furi- 
ous storms of the whole winter occurred. And it 
came on so suddenly that it overtook many entirely 
unawares. Several lives were lost, numbers of cattle 
and sheep were buried, and not a few of the smaller 
habitations were entirely overwhelmed. For several 
days, the roads in many places remained impassable. 
Even the great town sled, with eight yoke of cattle 
and a score of men with shovels, could not work 
through. Some of the drifts were so enormous, that 
the tree-tops rose but little above them, giving the 
appearance of a succession of milk-white hills stud- 
ded with straggling shrubbery. People walked from 
their chamber windows, on snow-shoes. And the prin- 
cipal store in the village was only reached by an arch- 
way dug from without. 

Aunt Deborah's cottage was almost entirely buried. 
But the good neighbors assembled with their shovels, 
as soon as they could, and it was presently exhumed. 
But on entering, no one was found. At this, however, 
they were not much surprised, she was so often away. 
They had no doubt that she was in comfortable quarters 
and would make her appearance again as soon as the 
traveling would permit. But a week passed and no 
one had seen her, though by that time the ways had 
become pretty well trodden. At the end of another 
week considerable anxiety began to be felt and inqui- 
ries were made in all directions. Nothing satisfactory, 
however, could be learned, though various reports were 
abroad, of her having been seen here and there, on 
this road and that. 



244 NOTABLE THINGS. 

Tlio great storm commenced a little before dark, 
with a northeasterly wind, which, however, was not 
very violent for some hours. And it was satisfactorily 
ascertained that Aunt Deborah left the house of Mr. 
Danforth, in Maiden, where she had taken an early 
supper, a little before it began. She was urged to 
remain, but chose rather to move along towards home, 
saying that it would not be dark as there was a large 
moon, and the storm would not probably be very vio- 
lent before the turning of the tide, which would 
be well towards midnight. At any rate, she thought 
she could safely calculate on reaching the house of 
INIr, Hawkes, which was a couple of miles west of 
Lynn village, before there was danger to be appre- 
hended. 

But things did not turn out according to her calcu- 
lation. A hard, cutting snow began to flill profusely 
soon after she left the house of her kind entertainers, 
and being obliged to almost directly face the wind, 
which continued to increase in force, it could not have 
been long before she found her progress very much 
impeded and very uncomfortable. The cold being 
intense, she could hardly have escaped very soon 
becoming benumbed. 

However, be these things as they may, there was 
found no trace of Aunt Armitage after she had reached 
the turn in the road which shut her from the view of 
Mr. Danforth's window. Much anxiety was felt, and 
many a wearisome search was made. But no trace of 
her could be found. 

And it was not till the warm breath of April melted 
down the great drift that sloped from a cliff a little off 
the road, in Mr. Turner's pasture, that Aunt Deborah 
was found. There she sat, curled up against the rock. 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 245 

as if she had sought shelter, and being overcome by 
cold and fatigue, had slept. And there, in that inhos- 
pitable resting place, her noble spirit fled, leaving its 
worn-out tenement wrapped in a mighty winding-sheet 
of snow. Her transition from this life to a better, so 
far as regards physical pains, may have been easy ; 
though to die in such a lonely spot, and without one 
loved soul to receive a parting word or watch the 
closing eye, is always hard. Yet her willing spirit 
was ever ready for its conflict with the last enemy ; 
and the dark valley had no terrors for her. 

Just there, was she laid. 

And think you not that her humble walk led to joys 
which many of the proud worldlings who lie around, 
realised, as the gates of eternity opened, were more 
worthy of being striven for than all that the wealth of 
the whole world could purchase? 

There are those who, selfish, untrusting, and mistak- 
ing their own characters, may, with some show of con- 
sistency, exclaim, as they quit the unsatisfying scenes 
of life, ill the words of Brutus, " Virtue, I have 
worshipped thee as a substantial good, but find that 
thou art an empty name." But no such sorrowful 
words could have escaped the lips of her of whom we 
speak ; for though she had worshipped virtue all her 
life without receiving much temporal reward, yet, look- 
ing not for the substantial good here, she did not find 
it an empty name. Though poor, yet was she rich, 
rich in the godly gift of christian faith and patience. 
There is a counterfeit patience, that proceeds from 
unconcern or indolence. But hers was that true pa- 
tience proceeding from unwavering reliance on the 
great promise that all will be well witli such as perse- 
vere to the end ; a holy patience, that sustains under 



246 NOTABLE THINGS. 

all suffering. And liers was that glorious faith that 
foreshadows a happy issue out of all afflictions. 

Freely did this poor old woman give of her hard 
earned pittance, and never distrust that she was lend- 
ing to One who would abundantly repay. How often 
sanctimonious men err regarding their highest duties. 
One may be punctilious in his attendance on public 
worship; make long prayers, morning and evening; 
give freely to pay ministers and build churches ; and 
do divers other most excellent things; — but if he be 
not charitable, how can he be a Christian? People 
seem to overlook the great and infallible test of chris- 
tian character. Men cannot benefit their Maker by 
their prayers and praises ; nor can they benefit Him 
in any other way ; not even by rearing tall steeples, 
or by offerings and sacrifices, however meritorious all 
these may be as manifestations of a sense of depend- 
ence and need, as stimulants to holy emotions and 
pious acts, or as evidence of grateful hearts. Ev- 
erything in the universe, both of mind and matter, 
are already His ; and He is infinitely beyond the reach 
of all our attempts to do Him good. And hence, does 
not the sphere of our more active duties lie here 
among our fellow men and temporal things? Here, 
we may do beneficial work. *ls it not, then, a most 
solemn truth, that so far as our practical efforts are 
concerned, pure religion and undefiled consists, first 
of all things, in doing good to those about us; in vis- 
iting the widow and fatherless in their affliction ? Our 
fellow mortals need our help and we can help them ; 
our Maker needs nothing, and before him we have 
nothing to bestow. Let us, then, have a care that we 
do not spend so much time and money for mere devo- 
tional purposes that we have nothing left for those 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 247 

other eminently important, those practical, christian 
duties, which must be performed, or nothing will 
avail. 

And even in a mere temporal view, charity is not to 
be despised. We are all liable, at some period of our 
lives, to be in adversity. How much, then, does it 
become us to so bear ourselves, while in prosperity, 
that when the evil days come there may be those whom 
we have befriended, to offer their sympathy and aid. 

A few paces southeast of the Henchman tomb, yon- 
der, sleeps the dust of the once beautiful and brilliant 
Yerna Humphrey. It was during the earlier part of 
the pastorate of the good Mr. Whiting — or about the 
year 1644 — that her eyes first opened upon the scenes 
of this diversified life. 

As the mind of Verna began to unfold it became 
apparent that treasures much beyond Avhat fall to the 
common lot had been bestowed upon her. And to the 
sacred work of the right training of that exalted 
nature none could be more wakeful than her intelli- 
gent father. But how often it is found that in the 
ways of a mysterious Providence the desires of a fond 
heart seem not to be blest. 

And those secondar}^ graces, too, the charms of per- 
son, were with a lavish hand bestowed upon Verna. 
As her form expanded in early womanhood, an ele- 
gance of shape and exquisite chiseling of feature 
presented such perfection that even the rude wayfarer 
paused to admire. 

Mr. Whiting had taken Verna at an early age into 
his little class at the parsonage — a class of budding 
minds which he loved to instruct in those accomplish- 
ments which would be most fit to adorn the more ele- 



248 KOTABLE THINGS. 

vated society in the land — a class of uncorrupted 
hearts winch he loved to strengthen in the wavs of 
virtue and discipline for the vicissitudes of life. And 
in many of those young hearts the genial influences 
of his own nature seemed to infuse themselves, subdu- 
ing the asperities of temper, and lighting the brow 
with the sunshine of universal love. How potent is 
the power that the instructor of youth may exercise 
for good or evil over those committed to his charge. 
And how great should be the reward of the faithful 
and the condemnation of the unfaithful. 

We find Verna, at the age of twenty, very much in 
the character of a young village queen ; the admired 
of all ; the object of tender aspiration in many a manly 
heart; graceful in form; dignified in bearing; affable 
and engaging in all her ways. Her mental endow- 
ment and education were such that she was able to 
appreciate the lofty in sentiment and character, the 
beautiful in nature and conception. With the old 
poets, congregated in the little library of Mr, Whiting, 
she spent many congenial hours. The vellum quarto 
of the great Light of Avon, who had then just begun, 
as it were, to shed his glorious rays upon the world, 
often reposed upon her lap while in dreamy abstrac- 
tion she indulged the new and vivid conceptions that 
stirred the inmost recesses of her soul. 

But Verna's love of books was not such as to with- 
draw her from the delights of social life. She was 
present at the village gatherings, with ringing langh 
and alert step engaging in the sports. And in the 
more quiet enjoyments of the fireside, her well stored 
mind, superior conversational powers, and dexterity in 
adapting herself to those about her, made her every- 
where welcome. 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 249 

And the circle that Verna brightened, extended be- 
yond the limits of her native settlement. Her father 
was sometimes called to Boston on public affairs or his 
own private business, which was extensive, and occa- 
sionally remained there for several weeks, taking his 
beloved daughter, to comfort and enliven the hours of 
absence from his pleasant home. And having those 
among the gay people of the colonial metropolis with 
whom he was in social intimacy, it is not surprising 
that with a father's pride he sometimes led her into 
scenes and society, which, while most captivating to 
the young mind, are not always the most free from 
danger. It was on these occasions that Verna formed 
acquaintances with some who, though more highly 
cultivated were not more virtuous than those in the 
retirement of the humble place of her nativity. She 
gradually became a frequent visitor in some of the 
leading families of the colony. And there, in those 
days, it was not uncommon to meet scions of the titled 
families of the old world. 

But still Verna loved her home with the ardor of a 
first love. The sparkling beaches, with their spent 
waves rolling whisperingly at her feet as if struggling 
to warn of mysteries and dangers beyond; the dark 
caverns, and battlements and gray towers of rock, 
where yet the eagle delighted to keep watch and 
ward ; the green fields, pleasant hills, and winding 
lanes ; the humble firesides, where she always found 
welcome and sympathy; — all were very dear to her 
heart. But dearest of all were the companions of 
her childhood and early youth, and the godly man who 
had labored so faithfully to store her mind with all 
that was useful and good, and whose pleasant smile 
and kind word had so often cheered her step as she 
K* 



250 NOTABLE THINGS, 

climbed the hill of knowledge. And during the hours 
of absence, in sweet sadness would her mind often 
revert to the little library where at all times she was 
welcome to commune with the great and the brilliant 
of other days and lands whose words of wisdom and 
true humanity, and glowing conceptions of the beau- 
tiful and rare might strengthen her mind and animate 
her heart. There her beloved Shukspeare dwelt, ready 
at all times to shed his vivifying influence into her soul ; 
there was smiling Spenser; and the quaint old wor- 
thies of the massive tomes who taught of life in its 
more sombre aspects. 

Verna knew not a mother's love. But her father's 
affection was of that peculiarly deep and tender nature 
that might be expected to characterise a noble heart, 
widowed at the birth of its only offspring. Verna's 
excellent mother had hardly passed the throes that 
ushered the dear expected one into life, ere the throes 
of death were upon her. She was deeply mourned. 
And Mr. Humphrey, shrinking from a possible recur- 
rence of such a scene of trial, never seemed to enter- 
tain a thought of forming another union. A family 
connection, well skilled in household affairs, virtuous 
and kind, undertook for him the duties of housekeeper 
and his home continued one of peace and pleasantness. 

Mr. Humphrey was a man of means and benevolent 
heart. His broad acres were well tilled and his barn 
and store houses never empty. And his doors were 
never closed against the needy supplicant. As his 
beloved daughter grew in years, the good man de- 
lighted to behold in her the sweet fruits of those les- 
sons of charity which he had so carefully impressed on 
her uncorKupted heart. The sick and poor were no 
strangers to her kind offices. And if the prayers of 



THE OLD BURYING GSOUNU. 251 

the forlorn, the destitute and degraded, in union with 
those of the refined, the virtuous and elevated, could 
have availed, her foot would never have trod a thorny 
path. 

But we cannot dwell on the early history of Yerna. 
Her visits to the metropolis had brought her into such 
society as was not safe for one so susceptible and con- 
fiding and possessing such charms. 

During the pleasant days of summer, her acquaint 
ances sometimes came hither to enjoy the beauties of 
nature, and the charms of her society. Many a wood- 
land ramble and moonlight stroll upon the beaches, 
diversified the routine of happy days. And it is to be 
feared that these occasions may have afforded oppor- 
tunity for the wily to scatter seeds that could produce 
only a wayward growth. 

It was now a few years after the Restoration. And 
all readers of English history know how rapidly the 
vices that finally so distinguished the reign of Charles 
II., and transmitted their enervating effects a long way 
into the Hanoverian sovereignties, began to prevail. 
The colonies, it is true, were in a great measure free 
from the corruptions of the'times. But not altogether. 
Many profligate adventurers came hither from the 
father land, some from the noble ranks, even, for tem- 
porary residence. And not a few of the once happy 
colonial homes were made desolate by their arts. 

Go with us now, for one moment into the still pre- 
cincts of the parsonage. 

It is late at night. 

Serene and beautiful the moon rides high in the 
heavens. And the few stars that are not eclipsed by 
ber brightness, twinkle with a radiance clear and sharp. 



252 NOTABLE THINGS. 

A slight breeze comes down from the hills, and the 
noble pines that stand as sentinels at the gate, shiver 
and faintly sigh. 

Let us enter that snug little library. 

The candle burns dimly, for the bent, black wick 
has long cried in vain for the friendly snuflcrs. There 
are persons here ; but only two. Mr, Whiting sits 
upon one side of the table with an open Bible before 
him. Mr, Humphrey sits upon the other side with his 
head resting on his hand. And both are weeping. It 
is most sad to see strong men weep. Children's tears 
are evanescent, flowing from fountains stirred by a 
breath and by a breath put to rest. Women's tears 
freely flow at the common vicissitudes of life, and 
smiles may presently appear again. Not so with the 
more enduring spirit of man. 

Thus sat the two friends for some minutes. And it 
would have almost seemed irreverent to disturb the 
flow of their manly grief. Then the minister arose 
and with a choked utterance begged his good friend 
Humphrey not to be so cast down. He reminded him 
that God in his good providence might soon bring 
him out of his terrible affliction ; that it was not right 
for a Christian so to distrust and despond ; and that 
though his beloved daughter had suddenly and mysteri- 
ously disappeared from his sight, yet, whithersoever 
she had gone, she was still in her Maker's sight. Then 
he again read the comforting words at which the Bible 
was opened, and again offered up one of those fervid 
and soul-stirring prayers for which he was so eminent, 
and which gained for him, from the rigid Mather, the 
expressive title of "Angel of Lynn." 

And the sorrowing father returned to his now des- 
olate homo much comforted by the sympathy and godly 



THE OLD BUEYING GROUND. 253 

counsel received from bis beloved minister. The stare 
seemed to sbed a mournful ligbt upon bis patb, and tbe 
trees to sigb witb unwonted sadness. 

Dramatic representations have been known ever 
since the civilization of man. And tbey probably will 
continue, under some name, till man again returns to a 
savage state. Most men are delighted with history. 
And what is history but a recounting of the great 
dramas of life ; a recalling, before the mind, of the 
scenes and actors of former days ? 

Tbe Englisb, though perhaps never betraying an 
over-fondness for tbe stage, have alwa3's regarded it 
as an institution of civilization. And the pen of their 
unapproacbable Shakspeare has made the whole world 
their debtors. 

The dramas of the Bard of Avon will be admired 
so long as men continue sufSciently cultivated to 
love wbat is beautiful in the outward world or appre- 
ciate what is noble in their own nature. Tbese dra- 
mas were all produced between the years 1588 and 
1615. And soon after their appearance a more refined 
taste and fastidious morality began to prevail in stage 
representations ; though it may be asked, in view of 
this, what the earlier representations must have been. 

In the time of Charles I. the theatre appears to have 
flourished. But Avhen the sturdy Puritans came into 
power, as might have been expected, it received no 
quarter. It languished through the whole time of the 
Commonwealth. But on the Restoration it began to 
flourish with renewed vigor. 

Female actors do not appear to have been known on 
the English stage before the time of Charles II. That 
a real woman, and not a boy in woman's apparel, should 



254 NOTABLE THINGS. 

appear to play the part of Desdemona, Juliet or Ophe- 
lia was a new thing. And while it remained new it 
added immensely to the interest of the theatre. In- 
deed its attractiveness has not yet ceased. Great 
inducements were offered for the most beautiful and 
accomplished to undertake the labors of dramatic life. 
And the inducements were effectual in numerous in- 
stances. 

The meed of public commendation is intoxicating. 
And it was extremely grateful to these adventurous 
females so soon to become the objects of popular 
admiration, the recipients of popular applause. And 
then again, the appearance of the refined and virtuous, 
for there w^ere many such, had a tendency to elevate 
the character of the stage itself. But that good effect 
was, probably, from the nature of the case, only tem- 
porary. And it certainly was not an age when much 
elevation would be looked for in that quarter. 

While all but the most provokingly illiberal are 
ready to admit that there have ever been in the dra- 
matic profession females who did honor to their sex, 
the general opinion of the world, that it has never 
been one the best fortified against evil, must be con- 
curred in. The young and uncontaminated female, 
entering upon the life of an actress, must necessarily 
give no heed to many of the out-guards that in almost 
every other sphere remain to warn of danger, and 
expose herself to influences but poorly calculated to 
aid the growth of virtue. Herein, perhaps, lies the 
greatest danger. And it seems to be an inherent one. 

In the year 1G73, there appeared, unheralded, on 
the theatrical boards of London, an actress whose 
personal charms and extraordinary powers of delinca- 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 255 

tion at once elicited the admiration of all. It is not in 
that sphere, as in many others, that excellence is slow- 
in becoming known. The public eye being constantly 
on the candidates for favor, the question of merit or 
demerit is soon determined. In the present case there 
was but one voice and that loud in praise. Many who 
had never been accustomed to attend the theatre were 
at once attracted there — students from their closets, 
philosophers and divines. Thus was this new and 
brilliant star of genius eminently honored by those 
who could appreciate and enjoy the rare in intellectual 
power and discernment. And thither also were drawn 
those from the titled ranks ; among wdiom, it is true, 
were some whose desires were centered in quite other 
charms than those of mind. 

The little coteries that gathered in the green room, 
too often numbered among them those whose objects 
were impure and from whose advances the sensitive 
and virtuous might well shrink. But these were gen- 
erally from among those whose wealth or position so 
improperly insured indulgences which would at once 
be denied to the less favored of fortune. That virtue 
must be doubly strong, which can withstand covert 
assaults and pertinacious and gilded appliances under 
such circumstances as those in which this queen of 
the drama was placed. 

The Merry Monarch himself was sometimes behind 
the scenes, curious in his disguises, and captivating 
in the relation of his whimsical adventures. There, 
too, came Edward Randolph, with manly form and 
dark curling hair; Pembroke, so affable and kind; the 
youthful EUenborough, so witty and polite ; to say 
nothing of others of more burly and boisterous trim; 
men of wealth, fashion, leisure and taste, but destitute 



256 NOTABLE THINGS. 

alike of lieart and principle. Were not these danger- 
ous associates, though only for now and then an hour, 
in the green room of a theatre, for one innocent, and 
by nature confiding and unsuspicious? 

The carriage of some young noble was alwa3's wait- 
ing at the door, when the play closed, to convey the 
fascinating Star to her lodgings; and in the morning a 
fresh bouquet was sure to be sent for her acceptance. 
Upon the ofF-nights some little party always demanded 
her presence where wit, wine, and cards were special 
adjuncts. But unanticipated consequences sometimes 
flow from wine and cards. And when to them are 
added the excitements that the smile or frown of a 
beautiful woman may create, surely perils abound. 
More than one passage at swords grew out of these 
occasions. 

Our heroine of the stage became more and more the 
votary of festive life as the season advanced and her 
circle of acquaintance extended. Her wakeful and 
brilliant wit, superior education and capacity to trace 
the sinuous workings of the human mind rendered her 
most able to rule in such society. Her dark hazel 
eyes could flash with the fires of defiance or scorn on 
those whose approach she would check, or melt in 
child like softness at the advance of such as she would 
welcome. 

The favorite and almost only characters that she 
personated were those immortal ones drawn by Shaks- 
peare. And while treading the boards, lost in the 
counterfeit, the applause that rang from the almost 
frantic crowd, Avas entirely unheeded by her. She 
never appeared in what is now known as melo-drame, 
nor in farce or dance. But in the song that pertained 
to her lofty part she sang with a voice so modulated to 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 257 

the stately demands of chivalric achievement, the ten- 
der accents of love, or the plaintive strains of grief, 
that a sympathetic cord was touched in every heart. 

Uaudy tinsel, patching and painting, she eschewed. 
Nature's ruddy glow' upon the cheek and pure white 
upon the brow, raven lashes and ample tresses of dark 
chesnut were all that she required. Her robes were 
few, but rich, appropriate and becoming. 

So passed on the season, full of excitement, full of 
success. 

But did she never, after her professional duties were 
over, and her admirers dismissed — after her fevered 
head had tossed upon the pillow till the east was 
all but gilded by the coming day — did she never then 
think of a quiet and peaceful retreat, far away among 
green hills and beside pleasant waters, with tender 
hearts to feel her cares, honest hearts to guide her 
erring steps; of hours of sweet and undisturbed re- 
pose coming on with the setting sun, and hours of 
useful activity beginning with the opening day? Did 
she never think of a quaint and spireless meeting 
house standing down a grassy lane, where gathered 
familiar forms, and where familiar faces were upturned 
to the godly preacher, who loved to speak words of 
heavenly comfort, and whose lips trembled to utter 
words of pain even in the sinner's ear? More than all, 
did she never think of a sequestered burial place, 
where lay an angel mother, sighed over by swaying 
trees ; or of a tender father, with bowed form, visiting 
that grave and there, with gushing tears for the dead, 
mingling those proceeding from more unutterable grief 
for an erring loved one still in life ? 

Another season came and this extraordinary young 
woman again appeared on the theatrical boards, peer- 

17 



258 KOTABLE THINGS. 

less still. But she was more stately and reserved in 
her daily walk, and less approachable by those who 
were wont to meet her in a familiar way. So far 
as professional intercourse was concerned her affa- 
bility was as conspicuous as ever; but the non-profes- 
sional visitors of the green room soon perceived that 
they must seek other objects on which to bestow their 
attentions and favors. Yet there was one whom she 
always greeted with a smile of welcome. And he was 
a wealthy young Earl. It was his blazoned carriage 
that conveyed her. home; and it was company of his 
approval that she entertained. His means procured 
the rich jewels that now adorned her person, and the 
elegances of her enchanted home. True, he was not 
deemed of the most virtuous class: but he was 3-oung, 
polite, witty and handsome. The customs of the times 
did not demand fastidiousness in morals, especially 
among those in his sphere. His sovereign had set an 
example that most were too ready to follow. And 
fashion is almost as sure as natural desire to open the 
door to some species of vice. The reader must be 
left to draw his own conclusion as to the nature of the 
intimacy that had become established between the 
noble Earl and the fascinating Actress. 

A beautiful villa stood on the bank of the river, a 
few miles below London. It was an erection of the 
time of Elizabeth, and of exquisite loveliness as re- 
garded its own charming self, its immediate surround- 
ings, and the enchanting views afforded from its turrets 
and balconies. The little park sloped gently to the 
river, with gravel walks and grassy paths, all finely 
shaded by noble trees; and fountains sparkled in 
the sunshine. Stretching far away upon either hand, 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 259 

and beyond the river, as far as the eye could reach, 
were cultivated fields and green acclivities, dotted 
with fiirm house and copse, all rejoicing in heaven's 
glorious light. 

The villa gardens were full of choice flowers and 
luscious fruits. And here and there, in some embow- 
ered niche, was a statue, of the old mythology. 

Within the villa, the elegant rooms were well sup- 
plied with books, pictures, and costly ornaments. And 
a ponderous old harpsicord stood in the hall, inviting 
the touch of such wandering minstrel, the representa- 
tive of England's more chivalric days, as might stray 
within the villa precincts. 

But who was the presiding genius in this charming 
retreat? The same triumphant tragedy queen who a 
few years before, upon the London stage, so astonished 
the multitude. Nor was she mistress of the mansion 
alone, but also of the gay Earl, a part of whose patri- 
mony it was. There now she sits in the gorgeous 
drawing room that overlooks the calmly flowing river, 
surrounded by every outward appliance for peace and 
happiness. A sweet little child leans on her knee, 
looking up with a face full of trusting love. And she 
looks down upon that curly head with all the placid 
joy known in a mother's love for her only born. But 
a sickening mist comes up between her vision and that 
sinless idol of her heart; a mist, arising from the foun- 
tains of impurity which she herself has stirred. There 
is a gnawing worm within. Her bosom heaves as 
unbidden thouglits of tlie uncontaminated joys of 
other days arise, days when she was morally fair as 
that unerring one upon her knee. Again, we behold 
her seated on a balcony, scanning the gh)rious scene, 
and with long drawn sigh, in nature's holy quietude, 



260 NOTABLE THINGS. 

yearning for that peace which the uncorrupted in 
heart and innocent in life, alone can know. 

In this lovely place, some of the noblest of the realm 
were at times found. On occasions, it was the resort 
of certain individuals who would in a private way and 
for private ends, discuss the great matters of state. 
The Earl himself held a considerable official position, 
was ambitious and somewhat given to intrigue. In- 
deed was there ever a politician who was not an in- 
triguer? He was a favorite of royalty ; but even this 
did not place him above plotting; for there are many 
who would rather achieve by intrigue what they could 
more easily attain by open and fair means. 

In this retreat, these restless spirits were safe from 
observation. And like other females, of powerful and 
aspiring mind, who have in all ages made their influ- 
ence felt in affairs of state, the reigning spirit of the 
villa joined in the political debates. And her services 
to the party whose interests she espoused were of 
much value, for blandishments will often accomplish 
what reasoning cannot. 

The period to which these occurrences relate was 
one when the condition of the American colonies 
was exciting much interest in the mother country. 
Their commerce was extending; their fisheries were 
productive ; their forests were ready to yield a large 
increase. And there was a deep and wide spread con- 
viction that they were destined at no very distant day 
to assume a position in the world important and com- 
manding. Many ambitious and avaricious eyes were 
directed thither. And many consultations were held 
at the villa among those whose desires would bo satis- 
fied only in the broadest fields of enterprise. 

When the accomplished hostess partook in the po- 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 261 

litical discussions relating to those far-off colonies, 
she astonished all by her accurate knowledge of their 
history, condition, wants and rights. And she showed 
herself their uncompromising friend, resolutely op- 
posing every suggestion that might endanger any in- 
terest of theirs. Edward Randolph more than once 
quailed before her flashing eye. His inveterate hos- 
tility to the interests of the colonies as well as his base 
selfishness was apparent even to minds much less keen 
and wakeful than hers. And king Charles himself, who 
on one occasion in disguise came beneath her roof, 
was b}' his very disguise, for she knew him well, 
compelled with closed mouth to hsten to such an out- 
pouring of bitter truth regarding his administration of 
American affairs, as had never before greeted his pam- 
pered ears. 

These were times immediately preceding the disso- 
lution of the colonial charters. And as the old lord 
keeper of the king's conscience on several occasions 
found his way there, perhaps some reason other than 
mere mistake, negligence or accident, may have ex- 
isted why in the succeeding reign no record was found 
of certain judgments adverse to colonial interests, well 
known to have been passed. 

The social delights of this elegant retreat drew 
together the witty and fashionable. The Earl was 
lavish in his expenditures, and the rarest entertain- 
ments were given. Classic and poetical representa- 
tions, music and dancing, enlivened the gliding hours; 
cards and wine furnished their excitements. 

But there was a sudden and mournful termination 
of these things. 

With appalling swiftness the arrow of Death laid low 
the doting Earl. Then quickly upon that gem of the 



262 NOTABLE TinXGS. 

river fell a murky cloud. Not more rapidly does the 
thunder cloud obscure the sun than did this sad death 
extinguish the brightness of that radiant home of plea- 
sure. 

The heroine was now hardly of an age to make new 
conquests by personal charms. And it was not easy 
even in that morally derelict age, for one who had 
80 long stood in a position like hers, to attain a posi- 
tion among those who had never deviated, however 
eminent her other qualifications might be. The Earl 
was of a generous nature. But so sudden was his 
decease that no provision was made for her for whom 
he really had a most tender attachment, and on whom 
he had lavished so much. It would hardly be expected 
that his family connections, who had been to a degree 
indirectly impoverished by his extravagances, should 
supply his omission. And so the poor erring one was 
left in penury. Can there be wonder, then, tliat she 
mourned as one without hope? 

On a cold but brilliant night in the winter of 1691, 
there came slowly walking along the road, from Boston, 
a female traveler, wrapped as well as she might be in 
a scanty cloak. She had walked all the way from 
that place, and now, on entering the village of Lynn, 
seemed so fatigued as to be scarcely able to support 
herself. 

A piercing northwest wnnd swept over the snow, 
which sparkled in the moonbeams, and now and then 
whirled up in eddies so furiously as almost to blind 
such unfortunate ones as happened to be exposed to 
its fury. And the little drifts accumulated so fast 
across the traveled path, that the way became every 
moment more and more difficult. 



THE OLD BUnYING GROUND. 263 

The garments of the forlorn traveler to whom we 
have alluded were entirely insufficient for protection 
against the severe cold, and of such texture as was 
worn by those in the most humble condition. Never- 
theless, she toiled on, perseveringly, aided by a rude 
staff that she had picked up by the wayside. 

By her side was a little girl, who was quite as thinly 
clad, and whose chattering teeth and benumbed limbs 
told of her suffering. But no complaint w^as uttered 
by either. 

They proceeded in silence, excepting that occasion- 
ally the girl, in a tone of the most tender solicitude, 
would inquire if her mother's strength were still suffi- 
cient for their trial. She seemed to have no thoua-ht 
of herself, of the torn shoes from which the little rag 
covered toes protruded, nor of her tattered bonnet, 
from which rolled a profusion of glossy tresses, which 
the wind seemed delighted to whirl about by its cold 
breath. And as she made her pathetic inquiries, she 
Avould turn her drooping eyes upon her parent, while 
the moonbeam lighted the tears that, in spite of all 
her efforts, forced their way from the quivering lids. 
But the mother uttered no response. She could only 
pause in her weary walk, press that dear one to her 
heart and sigh. 

So the two traveled on. At about midnight they 
were opposite the house of Jacob Burrill. Here, by a 
misstep upon the ice, the mother fell, and was so stun- 
ned as to become entirely unconscious. The daugh- 
ter, in wild distress, flew to the neighboring door, 
arousing the inmates and begging for assistance. No 
one in distress ever applied at that door in vain. The 
good man, in a half nude condition, rushed to the re- 
lief of the wayfarers. They were, without question 



264 NOTABLE THINGS. 

or comment instantly taken beneath the hospitable roof. 
A bright fire soon burned ; restoratives were applied ; 
and presently a warm repast invited their attention. 
They were very hungry, and partook with gi-atefnl 
hearts. The woman had received but slight injury 
from her fall, and the accident was soon almost forgot- 
ten. An hour after found the two safe in a bed of 
such softness as they had not enjoyed for many a 
weary month, their prayers having first ascended for 
blessings on their kind deliverer. 

In the morning, they began to prepare for departure. 
But a few casual inquiries led to a long and earnest 
consultation. And it seemed a strange Providence 
that so ordered things that they remained the welcome 
recipients of Mr. Burrill's bounty till the opening of 
spring, rendering such small service as they were able 
to, in return, by the needle, at the spinning-wheel, or 
in the dairy. 

The woman was something beyond the meridian of 
life. But trouble had given her the marks of one 
much in advance of that period. Silvery locks skirted 
her care-worn brow; her cheeks were wan, her form 
was bent. Yet there was a lustre in her sunken eye, 
that spoke of a soul yet alive to the realities of life. 
And her whole appearance indicated that she was one 
who had fallen from better fortunes. She was so re- 
tiring in her habits as to shrink even from friendly 
visitors, though the little conversation into which she 
could be drawn, exhibited a mind of intelligence and 
strength, and a resignation worthy of respect. She 
made no acquaintances, and appeared desirous only of 
finishing her earthly journey by some quiet, seques- 
tered path. 

The daughter had a gentle spirit, and her habits 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 265 

seemed as retiring as those of her parent. She was 
intelligent and pleasing in person ; and her modest 
attire was always tasteful and clean. She loved books 
and flowers, but seldom seemed inclined to associate 
with other children. 

There werp many visitoi's at the house of Mr. Burrill 
and not a few kindly seconded the efforts of the good 
family to cheer the strangers. But their success was 
by no means commensurate with their endeavors. Vil- 
lage gossips were baffled in their attempts to ascertain 
the cause of their sorrow, or the reason of their so- 
journ in the settlement. 

When the grass and flowers began to appear, the 
mother and daughter retired to a quiet little home, far 
up a green lane, where they purposed dwelling in seclu- 
sion, by their own industry supplying their few wants. 
Mr. Burrill, with his wonted benevolence, assisted them 
in procuring the few things necessary for their hum- 
ble home, and was pleased when he saw them quietly 
settled there, surrounded, as they said, with all they 
desired. And it was very pleasant to him occasion- 
ally to call on them as he came from his field, hard by, 
to speak a word of cheer. And it would have greatly 
added to his own happiness, to have seen them smile 
as if returning to life's enjoyments. But there they 
lived, the possessors of many blessings, among the 
chief of which was their cordial and unwavering affec- 
tion for each other. On the Sabbath, their seats in 
the meeting house were seldom vacant; and none 
were more attentive to the long drawn exercises than 
they. The mother's black veil was seldom lifted ex- 
cepting now and then to permit the fresh air to play 
freely on her brow. 

The summer waned. 
L 



266 NOTABLE THINGS. 

It was a sad thing to beliold that motiher thus pur- 
suing a sunless path ; but much sadder to behold the 
prematurely fading daughter. 'JMie little garden, well 
stored with choice flowers which had been transplant- 
ed from the hill sides by their own iiands; the woody 
acclivity beyond; and the winding lane, furnished tiie 
scene of almost their whole exercise out of doors. 
Occasionally, however, as the shades of evening were 
gathering, the mother would steal away alone, for a 
brief space to wander in this burial place. And it was 
observed that she lingered chiefly at a particular grave, 
bending over it and deeply sighing, as if exercised by 
some terrible agony, and finally vanishing, in the dim 
twilight, like a troubled ghost. 

Before the winds of later autumn began to howl, a 
great affliction descended on that homo of love and 
sadness. The daughter was stricken down by disease 
incurable. The sorrow that now weighed upon the 
mother's heart, led to her laying aside, in some de- 
gree, the reserve in which she had so enwrapped her- 
self; and she received the few neighbors who came to 
offer their sympathy and assistance, with many expres- 
sions of sincere gratitude. 

It was a wild autumn evening and very late. The 
fast declining daughter lay upon her lowly couch. 
She had been restless for hours, and now breathed 
heavily, with an occasional quiver of the whole frame, 
seeming, in halfdreamy state, to be struggling for 
something that she could not grasp. Suddenly she 
waked to full consciousness and convulsively seized the 
hand that lay upon her pillow. Then with touching ear- 
nestness she began to talk of a strange vision she had 
had ; a vision so beautiful and apparently real that she 
could almost pray for its return. She was in a splendid 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 2^7 

mansion with brilliant rooms and music and gay com- 
pany. A shady lawn, with fountains, sloped to a broad 
river, beyond which fields, and green hills spread out, 
all glowing in the sunshine. And in the most beauti- 
ful room of the mansion her dear mother sat; and she 
hei'self, a little child, leaned upon her knee. And 
there came a man of noble form and pleasant look, 
who put his arm about her mother's neck, bowed 
down and kissed her. And upon his knee he took 
herself, smoothed her curling hair, and said she was 
his dearest child. He hugged her to his heart and 
said that he would never suffer even the Avind to blow 
hard upon her, he so loved her. 

Scarcely had the little one thus delivered herself, 
when she sank down again exhausted. 

A groaning utterance was just escaping the moth- 
er's heaving breast, when tliere came a fierce knocking 
at the door. It was opened, and two burly men, bois- 
terous and forbidding in aspect, entered, announcing 
themselves as officers of the law, come to arrest the 
woman on the charge of witchcraft. This seemed the 
bitterest drop in the cup where all was bitterness. 
All her remaining powers of endurance were sum- 
moned ; and though she staggered she did not fall. 
In silence she gave ear to what they had to say. She 
had been " cried out against," a complaint entered, 
and now she must be held to answer. As she began 
to comprehend her new position, a terrible weight 
fell upon her. She could not speak, but in woe unut- 
terable pointed to the couch whereon her dying daugh- 
ter lay, as if to beg a respite only till that beloved one 
were in her winding sheet. And from that couch 
there came a feeble voice, pleading, in childlike sim- 
plicity, against the strange, false accusation. It was 



268 NOTABLE THINGS. 

a scene of sucb extreme agony that even the coarsely 
disciplined hearts of those rude men were deeply 
tonched. Then they withdrew to consult. 

And now the mother, with tearless eye, sat down 
upon the bedside. She spoke not, but gazed fixedly 
upon that calm face upturned on the pillow. Those 
gentle, dying eyes opened, full of love and heavenly 
radiance. Those lips quivered as if words pressed 
for utterance. Then, by an effort that taxed all her 
powers, the dying one raised herself, as if in a last 
attempt to declare something that weighed upon her 
spirit's wing. But the struggle was too much. She 
fell back. A slight quiver ran through her fragile 
form, and — 

Another ransomed spirit entered heaven. 

At that awful moment, too, the light of the mother's 
mind went out. With the daughter's spirit it fled 
away, not again to revisit and illuminate its earthly 
home. 

When the men returned, they even wept at the sor- 
rowful scene. The living one they found quiet and 
submissive. She uttered not a word, but stood at 
the bedside, looking down upon her lost treasure, with 
a vacant gaze, shedding no tear, heaving no sigh. 

In the morning the townspeople began to gather. 
Mr. Burrill and his good wife were there among the 
first. Mr. Shepard, the minister, also came, and the 
village doctor, the magistrate, and divers excited wo- 
men and curious children. 

They declared that the woman's heart was broken. 
And so it was. 

Another spring came, and though her health was 
good, her mind was still a blank. She was constantly 
wandering about. With venturesome step she would 



THE OLD BUEYING GROUND. 26D 

climb the nigged cliff and delve into the glen and 
rocky pass, as if in quest of something that she longed 
to find. She would gaze into the river, and trace the 
woodland stream through swamp and tangled dell, 
with anxious eye peering into every nook, and with 
her long staff curiously examining the covert that her 
foot could not reach. And then she would return, 
disappointed and restless, on the morrow to renew, 
with fresh vigor, her unsuccessful search. Occasion- 
ally, she would come hither, of a pleasant evening, and 
gaze intently for a few minutes on the same grave that 
she had before been accustomed to visit. During her 
wanderings in the woods, she would sometimes gather 
flowers and mosses, ferns and green twigs ; and when 
on the sea shore, she would cull glittering pebbles and 
curious shells. But none of these seemed objects for 
which she was in search. 

One day daring the hot summer of 1693, she strayed 
into the heart of a distant swamp. About nightfall 
she was seen emerging from the Avoods with a falter- 
ing step, as if extremely fatigued. Presently she sat 
down on a rock ; and those who observed her thought 
nothing more of it, supposing that she was resting. 

In the morning she was found by the rock, swollen 
and dead. It was supposed that she had been bitten 
by a rattlesnake ; for whenever she discovered one of 
those venomous reptiles, she would pursue it vigor- 
ously, often exposing herself to imminent danger. 

On the following day the friendly grave received 
her weary form. 

There, a few paces from that ancient tomb, as we 
said, sleeps the dust of the once beautiful and brilliant 
Verna Humphrey — the radiant star that brightened 



270 NOTABLE THINGS. 

many a home of our fathers in those far off times — 
the triumphant actress of the London stage — the 
charmer of the young heart of one of Enghmd's no- 
blest blood — the returned wanderer. Yes, returned, 
with broken spirit and contrite heart, in penur}-, sor- 
row and darkness to lay her weary head in this quiet 
spot. And here for generations she lias lain, no moro 
exposed to the temptations and reverses that attended 
her journey in life. 

And that dear offspring of unsanctioned love, all 
unconscious of its tainted birth, lies by her side, un- 
disturbed by human conflicts or by natui-e's rage. 

And is there no good lesson to be drawn from this 
simple history of Verna Humphrey? 

Somewdiere witliin a short distance of that stained 
marble shaft, that rises rather ostentatiously beneath 
the glossy foliage — though the precise spot cannot 
now be pointed out — must have been laid the dust of 
the godly Whiting, who for more than forty years was 
the beloved minister of the flock who gathered in the 
rude sanctuary reared by the early fathers of the Plan- 
tation. And during that long ministry, how many of 
those who had received holy instruction and comfort 
from his lips, must have been gathered to welcome 
his coming. No stone marks the spot where he lies 
in his serene repose, but his name and his virtues are 
recorded on tablets more enduring than marble. 

You perceive that the venerable man must lie near 
Verna Humphrey's resting place. Aud on tlie resurrec- 
tion morn, when the tenants of all these graves come 
forth to meet their Judge, if the day for intercession be 
not past, and the greater Advocate has not already se- 
cured her redemption, she will have an earnest inter- 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 271 

cessor in Lim who in her spring time of life prayed so 
fervently and labored so foithfully that she might 
never stray from the paths of purity nnd peace. 

Just about where yonder irreverently laugliing girl 
is plucking a flower, was buried, in 1G85, Manasseh 
Guatolf He was born a Jew. Amid the sunny hills 
of the olive and vine, in luxuriant Spain, did his eyes 
first open to the scenes of life. Being the offspring 
of parents conspicuous for their wealth and proud of 
their Hebrew lineage, no pains were spared to confer 
upon him a superior education, especially in all tlie 
learning calculated to confirm and strengthen him in 
the ancient faith. 

As he grew in years he exliibited talents of a high 
order, and such as rendered him an object of fear and 
jealousy to the ecclesiastical side of the government. 
And it was not long before he felt the iron hand of 
persecution. He was compelled, by the time he had 
attained an age to make his influence felt, to flee from 
his native land. He passed a restless life for a few 
years, in different places along the coasts of the Medi- 
terranean, and finally journeyed into the Holy Land. 
At Hebron, the sacred depository of the dust of his 
great father Abraham, he sat down to rest. But he 
was soon again upon the wing. 

By wliat turn of fortune he was brought into the 
western world, we know not. But he appears to have 
been residing at Boston for a year or two, when he 
fell in with Mr. Whiting. Both being among tlie best 
Hebrew scholars in the country, they frequently met 
in the higher literary circles. And Mr. Guatolf became 
so charmed by the benignant character of his new 
acquaintance, that he formed an attachment strong and 



272 NOTABLE THINGS. 

enduring. And he presently came to esteem it one 
of his highest privileges to be near the godly man, 
making frequent visits to Lynn, and occasionally re- 
maining for several days. He was a rigid adherent to 
the faith of his fathers; but this did not prevent his 
perceiving the good and great in those who proudly 
claimed to be among the chosen of the New Dispensa- 
tion, Indeed he seems to have been a man of charita- 
ble and confiding disposition, having views enlarged 
by travel and association with mankind under diflferent 
aspects and in different conditions. 

It does not certainly appear at what time Mr. Gua- 
tolf became a resident of Lynn, but it must have been 
a few years before his death. It is not wonderful that 
Mr. Whiting's influence over him should have eventu- 
ated, as it did, in his conversion to the christian faith. 
By degrees his adherence to the old religion weakened, 
and finall}', on a serene Sabbath morning, in early sum- 
mer, the venerable pastor had the blessed privilege, 
before a great congregation, who had assembled from 
far and near, of baptizing this son of Abraham into the 
religion of the Nazarene. It was a marked occasion, 
and much talked of among the good people through- 
out the colonies. 

For many months he pursued his christian Avalk 
in the most exemplary manner ; and his zeal and devo- 
tion may well have put to the blush many who had till 
then looked upon themselves as foremost in the godly 
race. He visited the widow and fatherless in their 
affliction, and kept himself from the contaminations of 
the world. The fountains of grace that had sprung up 
within him seemed pure and unfailing. He was con- 
stant ill attendance on the services of the sanctuary, 
and took great pains to lead thither others who bad 



THE OLD BURYIXG GROUIST). 273 

been accustomed to range the woods and fields on the 
Sabbath. And possessing well trained musical powers 
he delighted to join, with his melodious voice, in the 
sacred song. 

But on the death of Mr. Whiting, which took place 
in 1G79, a cloud seemed to fall on the path of Mr. 
Guatolf. He deeply mourned the loss of his christian 
guide and dear friend. 

Mr. Shepard succeeded in the pastorate. But his 
gloomy views of truth and duty, and dismal concep- 
tions concerning the heart of man, his course and 
destiny, were any thing but congenial to a mind con- 
structed like that of Mr. Guatolf. He seemed to strug- 
gle hard to retain the position he had reached. But 
it was soon manifest, to himself as well as others, that 
he had begun to lose ground. At times he sought the 
society of pious people, as if by their zeal to endeavor 
to reanimate his own. Again, he wandered alone into 
the fields as if seeking, in solitude, relief for his per- 
plexed and burdened mind. 

Some two years passed, and the attachment of Mr. 
Guatolf for the religion into which he had been bap- 
tized, was feeble and still declining. And another year 
had hardly elapsed when the light had gone out. He 
had bidden an everlasting adieu to all his christian 
hope and inspiration. But he did not return to his 
old Jewish faith. No, he wandered into the frigid 
wilds of Atheism. 

About this time the withering hand of consumption 
was laid upon him. He was soon confined to his 
home, and then to his bed. And it was a sorrowful 
thing to the good people who came to visit him, to 
find not even one ray of light glimmering in his dark- 
ened soul. And so he died; died, denying not onl;j^ 
L^- 18 



274 NOTABLE THIXCS. 

the great High Priest of the christian faith, but also 
the great Jehovah whom his fathers worshipped. Of 
all people on earth, one would think, an educated Jew 
would be the last to die an infidel. 

Bat there lies poor Guatolf, awaiting that resurrec- 
tion which with his last breath he sternly rejected. 

A few yards to the right of the grave of the unhappy 
Guatolf were laid the remains of Obadiah Turner, one 
of the most excellent men who labored and prayed 
for the success of the Plantation, while it was yet in 
infancy. Time has long since smoothed down the 
swell of the ground that marked his resting place, for 
he has occupied that lowly bed for more than a cen- 
tur}' and three quarters. He was a modest, pious and 
active man; and his genial mind was constantly, as it 
were, dispensing sunshine upon the path of tliose who 
journeyed in his company. All these creditable things 
appear from the few records which yet remain; but 
had we as full accounts of him as we have of many 
of his cotemporaries, we doubt not he would stand in a 
most eminent light. In the earlier part of our volume 
this meritorious pioneer has been prominently in view. 
And we need now only add that as he laid down trust- 
ing ill a mercifid Redeemer, we doubt not that he will 
arise to enjoy the recompense of a good and faithful 
servant. He went down into the dark valle}', clothed 
in the panoply of christian faith, and with that holy 
hope and trust, that takes away the sting of death. 

It is pleasant to endeavor sometiiing that may ex- 
tend tlie memory of one so worthy, as tiiere are enough 
to sound the praises of the merely liberal worldling. 
But wliat is the value of the life of one who makes 
mammon his deity, who spends his days in gathering 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 275 

that which will, when he is gone, be squandered by 
prodigals who only ridicule him for his groveling 
labor and care, compared with the life of one like him 
of whom we speak? 

And 0, how immeasurably more to be desired is a 
departure like his, than a departure like that of the 
wretched Guatolf There they lie, almost side by 
side, awaiting that resurrection which the one re- 
joiced in contemplating and the other sneered at as 
nothing but an idle dream. 

Not far from the northeasterly corner of the enclo- 
sure, where those flowering locust shrubs are growing, 
was anciently a reception tomb; that is, a tomb in 
which bodies were deposited until such times as the 
graves wliich were finally to receive them could more 
conveniently be digged. Deep snows or frosts in 
winter, and various causes at other seasons rendered 
this a desirable arrangement. There was no fear of 
body-snatchers in those days; nor was there any thing 
else to create an apprehension that the sanctity of the 
grave would be invaded. 

This sacred depository, the receiving tomb, was 
never very strongly fastened ; indeed it was closed 
up by merely shutting the flap doors, which fell ob- 
liquely together, in the manner of old fashioned cel- 
lar doors, their own weight making them sufficiently 
secure. 

It was on the afternoon of a sultry day in August, 
1G97, that the remains of Elizabeth Melrose were de- 
posited in this tomb. The solemn burial service of 
the Episcopal church had been read as she was con- 
signed to her mother earth, for she belonged to one 
of the few church families then in the vicinity. And 



276 NOTABLE THINGS. 

her funeral had been attended by a very lars^e con- 
course, as she was greatly beloved for her kind heart, 
bright mind and charming person. 

As the pale corpse lay exposed at the entrance of 
the tomb, the red h'ght of the declining sun struggled 
through the foliage as if striving once more to kiss tlie 
blanched cheek and warm back into life the inanimate 
form. The coffin lid was open ; and as the mourners 
filed silently by, to take a last look, she seemed in a 
sweet repose that it were sacrilege to disturb. The, 
flowers and evergreen twigs that adorned her fair 
brow and spotless robe, drank in the tears that pro- 
fusely fell, as if they were distillations of early dew. 

The sun went down ; the coflSn was closed ; and she. 
was left for her long sleep. 

That night a terrific thunder storm swept over the 
settlement. About ten o'clock it was at its height. 
The peals were appalling, the flashes almost contimi- 
ous. Rain descended in equatorial violence, and the. 
wind filled the air with whirling leaves and branches 
wrested from the groaning trees. 

It was at about that hour that a townsman who had 
been caught abroad in the tempest, Avas indesciibably 
terrified by suddenly beholding, amid the war of ele- 
ments, a few rods before him, and crossing the road 
that ran just north of the Burying Ground, a thin, 
white form. It apparently' moved from somewhere 
among the graves ; but whither it went, his fears pre- 
vented his observing. He doubted not that he had 
beheld a genuine ghost, and his hasty step was instinc- 
tively turned towards the minister's. 

At nearly the same time, the inmates of the house of 
Mr. Downing, who were the nearest neighbors, wer© 
startled by a noise at the outer door, it seeming as if 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 277 

sorae one had pushed or fallen against i!. And they 
thought tliat they likewise heard a feeble cry. The 
good master of the household instantly threw up the 
ponderous wooden latch, and the door swung wide 
open. Upon the rough stone step, drenched, treni' 
bling and speechless, lay a fragile form. It was wrap 
ped in the white robe of the grave, and faded flowers 
drooped upon the brow. 

The good wife and daughter sprang at the summons 
of the husband and father. And that apparently super- 
natural claimant of their hospitality was soon upon a 
comfortable bed, the recipient of every restorative 
appliance that the most willing hearts and ready hands 
could command. 

That strange visitant was Elizabeth Melrose. She 
had been prematurely consigned to the tomb, but 
amid the war of elements had waked and made her 
escape from its grim portals. 

She appears to have been in a trance, so much re- 
sembling death, that no one imagined that the fatal 
arrow had not sped. Whether the tremendous elec- 
tric discharges had the effect to awaken her, or whe- 
ther she was roused by some other means, it is not 
easy to determine. But her own account was that 
she suddenly awoke, as from a sleep, in a remarkable 
condition of physical strength and self-possession. Sho 
was immediately aware of her situation. But having 
power to raise the lid of her coffin, which had not been 
closely shut, and which was constructed like most 
coffins in those days, with the lid running the whole 
length, she had little difficulty in releasing herself 
from her fearful prison. From the tomb itself she 
soon escaped, for the lightning disclosed the passage^ 
and the door had been left partially unclosed, having 



278 NOTABLE THINGS. 

swung against a stone that had fallen from the adjicent 
bank. 

Ono can hardly conceive that a slender girl should 
have possessed such courage and strength in so aw Fid 
a situation. But it affords another instance of t\\e ex- 
traordinary capabilities of both the human mind and 
body in an extremity. In the ordinary walks of life 
a realization of the full extent of our own powers 
is very seldom forced upon us. 

There, near that little enclosed spot of sacred earth, 
where rest one household's dead, were, in 1G7I, depos- 
ited the remains of Ephraim Newhall, a man of com- 
manding virtues and an excellent teacher of youth. 
Diligently did he labor in his vocation, and unceasing 
were his endeavors to prepare those under his charge 
not only for success in this life, but also for the higher 
christian walk, which surely leads to life eternal. Pos- 
sessing such means as by economy were sufficient to 
ensure a livelihood, he refused all compensation for 
his services. He said that what he had was given for 
his support, while laboring for the good of those around 
him, and he should be guilty of the heinous sin of 
covetousness by demanding Avhat would be equivalent 
to a double compensation. He had received a clas- 
sical education, and had a mind capable of appreciating 
the beautiful and noble. A small volume of touching 
poetry emanated from his pen, all sweetly tinged by 
pious and manly sentiment. 

Would that such exemplars were more common. 

The evening of tlie twentieth of November, 1665, 
was damp and comfortless to those abroad. Tiie trees 
were almost entirely denuded of their leaves, the fsw 



THE OLD BURYTXG GROUND. 279 

that remained being dry and shriveled, and seeming to 
tremble Avitii impatience to leave their parent stems. 
And now and then, in spite of every filial tie, some 
would leap off and dance away upon the wind. The 
darkness set in ea'-ly and was very great, for there 
was no moon and the clouds rolled heavily up from 
the north. 

It was perhaps eight o'clock, when four stalwart 
men, bearing upon their shoulders a bier whereon was 
a coffin, without pall or other covering, entered the 
Burying Ground, preceded by the lame sexton, carry- 
ing a flaming torch of pitch. Half a dozen townsmen 
foHowed. And the discordant music of a battalion of 
wild geese that had been overtaken by the night, ac- 
companied that strange march. 

The sexton limped along, at the head of the group, 
leading the way among the trees toward the southerly 
wall ; and there, among briars and rank vegetation, 
paused. Hanging his torch upon a dead branch, with- 
out uttering a word, he pointed to a newly digged 
grave. The bearers lowered the burden from their 
shoulders and placed it on the ground, near the grave. 

For a few moments they all stood still as if each 
were waiting for the action of the others. The wind 
sighed mournfull}", and the trees tossed their lank 
limbs wildly about, like giant ghosts at their revels. 
The red light streamed from the torch, which flared 
and smoked, imparting an unearthly glow to the form-* 
around, and throwing a spectral radiance upon the rude 
coffin, the yawning grave, the gray old trunks, and far 
off among the brambles and shivering ferns. 

They stood in silence. No sob nor other mourning 
utterance was heard, save the sighing of the trees and 
lonely weeping of a little riU. But they did not loiter 



280 NOTABLE THINGS. 

long. The old sexton again pointed to the grave and 
then to a coil of rope that he had hung near his torch. 
They took the rope and by it lowered the coffin to its 
last resting place. 

Then the old man began hastily to shovel the earth 
upon it, as if anxious to have it in the shortest possible 
time buried from the sight of man. Rapidly the earth 
rattled down, and presently the grave was filled. Then 
those strong men trod and stamped upon it till all was 
even with the adjoining surface. Now along sharpened 
stake was brought and held upright u[)on the centre 
of the grave. Then, by the most vigorous arm, a huge 
sledge was swung, and as the sturdy strokes fell upon 
its head, it sank rapidly. Presently a dull sound was 
heard, for the point had reached the coffin. Another 
vigorous blow, and there was a stifled crash ; another 
and another; and then the stake head had sunk even 
with the earth. 

The work was done. And the strange company 
slowly and silently retired, preceded again by the 
limping sexton, bearing his torch, which by this time 
began to burn dimly and flicker. 

This was the burial of Alden Howland, the Suicide. 

It is the holy Sabbath eve. 

The breeze has lulled away, and the delicate foliage 
of early summer scarcely stirs. All nature seems sink- 
ing into repose, as the sun withdraws his last beams 
from spire and tree top. A few visitors linger in this 
consecrated spot, scanning the records on the stones. 
They speak only in whispers. Here are children, too. 
They step lightly on the graves, many as short as they, 
and their shout and laugh are hushed. And see that 
old man, with gray locks, seated upon yon cold granite 



THE OLD BURYING GROUND. 281 

slab, with head bowed down and lips moving, as if he 
were muttering some complaint or prayer. He seems 
like one who has outlived kindred and friends and 
come hither to ponder on his loneliness and perchance 
commune with their spirits, craving intercession for 
release from tlie burden of a cheerless life. 

What hour or place more meet for serious thought? 

Around us lie the godly men and women of olden 
time, who went down into the dark valley without 
fear, protected and sustained by christian faith and 
hope. Here repose the noble fathers who with strong 
hands and generous hearts shielded and succored the 
humble and weak. Here lies the soldier who bled for 
our liberties ; the glowing soul who labored and per- 
severed, through perils and wrongs, that he might 
secure the rights that we enjoy. 

Here lie the learned, the honorable, the liberal. And 
here, too, lie the young, the beautiful, the pure ; closed 
eyes that once sparkled with joy ; pale lips that once 
curled with mirth ; cold hands that once clasped other 
hands with friendship's warmth; pulseless hearts that 
once beat with the inspirations of love and sunny hope. 

Hidie tliey lie, undisturbed by the hum of business 
that so constantly floats around them, and all unenvi- 
ous of those who are most successful in the race for 
worldly good. Their ears are closed to the sound of 
the church-going bell or the jubilant parade ; their 
eyes to the gaudy and cunning things of man's device, 
the lovely and magnificent of nature's handiwork. The 
cricket chirps upon their lowly bed ; and there the 
busy ant constructs her nest, and the spider spreads 
his web. 

But, you sa}^ there is a darker view. And so there is. 
Here also lie the drunkard, the libertine, the profane 



282 



KO'iABLE THINGS. 



scoffer, the surly miser, the oppressor of the poor. 
And it is true that the grass grows as freshly and the 
flowers bloom as sweetly over them as over the most 
worthy who lie here. And when the snow}^ mantle 
of winter comes, it falls white and pure n|)on all alike. 
But there is beyond this another truth, which all along 
we have endeavored to keep in view; a ti'uth that 
should startle every unawakened hetirt. And that 
truth is, that fi'om all these graves the dead must 
come foith. Yes, on that great day of everlasting 
doom, this motley host must rise, and wheel into the 
judgment court. And then and there, in the vivid 
light that illuminates the most secret recess of every 
heart, will the true condition of each soul appear. 
Then how will men's judgments of their fellow men be 
changed. And how forcibly shall we all perceive the 
vanit}-^ of the life that has closed, the reality of that 
which is opening. 




VIEW ON LONG EEACII. 




t- t>-:^^u^ 



ki- '^. 



^^^^^^-^tt^^syi^^J^^j^itv^ja^j^ii JT- ItL^^^ 



OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 
Military Parade. Page 312. 



THE OLD TUNNEL. 
MEETING HOUSE. 

" Hail, honored fime ! Though not in theo 

Were gorgeous nave and aisle ; 
Yet was tliy ruJe simplicity 

More loved than marble pile." 

For pomething like a century and a half immediately 
preceding the unpretentious year 1827, observant trav- 
elers who journeyed from the metropoli;^ of New Eng- 
land by the great eastern road, could not have failed 
to notice, on passing through the westerly part of 
Lynn, a large, quaint structure, standing conspicuously 
on the open Common. On making inquiry, they would 
have been informed that this was the Old Tunnel 
Meeting House. The term '' old " being used as a 
sort of jolly adjective rather than as indicative of age. 

This memoi-able edifice was erected in 1682. And 
for generations it remained a gathering place of the 
most unalloyed of the puritanical stamp. 

To modern eyes it would appear a strange specimen 
of architecture both within and without. It was square 
upon the ground, and the roof ran up in the centre, 
surmounted by a belfry, much like an inveited tunnel; 
and hence the classic sobriquet by which it was for 
such a long period distinguished. 

The Old Tunnel Dedication Day, was, of course, 
an occasion of great parade. The weather was prop*" 

^283) 



284 NOTABLE THINGS. 

tious and everytliing assumed a holiday trim. A large 
number of the clergy were present, and lay delegates 
from far and near. 

There was the Reverend John Rogers, of Ipswich, 
a descendant of the Smithfield martyr, whose head, 
though at that time he was not much above fifty, was 
adorned with silver locks, and whose bearing was lofty 
and austere. He was unquestionably a man of learn- 
ing, for the next year he was installed president of 
Harvaid College, though his death occurring immedi- 
ately after, no opportunity was afforded for his friends 
to relate pleasant fictions or his enemies to relate un- 
pleasant truths about him in his new sphere. 

Then there was the Reverend Mr. Richardson of 
Newbury, another of the learned and sedate old puri- 
tanical preachers. 

There, likewise, was the Reverend Joseph Gerrish, 
of Wenhara, the "curious, orthodox and profound" 
divine, as well as " curious, orthodox and profound " 
lover of good living; his countenance beaming with 
intelligence and quiet humor. The discriminating John 
Dunton says in his journal, that he was "devout without 
moroseness or starts of holy frenzy and enthusiasm," 
and " primitive without the occasional colors of whi- 
ning or cant." And he gratefully adds that when he 
called on ^Mr. Gerrish he was entertained with a noble 
dinner. A judicious offering to the stomach is wonder- 
full}' effective in securing a good opinion. And it is 
worthy of remark that when any one has a favor to ask 
his best time to make application is when tlie one from 
whom he would receive it has lately risen from a fat 
table. Hunger is one of the worst advocates a man can 
possibly have. The animal condition is a much better 
index than most people reahse. There is little to be 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 285 

feared even from a tiger if his stomach is in a proper 
state. 

It is, of course, unnecessary to mention that Mr. 
Shepard, the minister of the parish, was present, proud 
of his new house and of the goodly company assem- 
bled to do honor to its dedication. But though he 
dispensed with the outer layer of his stern and frigid 
habit lie was careful by no means to compromise his 
dignity. Has not the reader observed, that of all peo. 
pie on earth, a minister with a new meeting house is 
the most proud? We once alluded to this curious 
fact, in conversation with a clerical friend. He admit- 
ted it, but claimed that the pride was felt for the hon- 
or done to the Lord. This was satisfactory, and led 
to the conclusion that the fair lady, when she proudly 
flaunts her silks, may be merely intending honor to the 
silk-worm. 

The dedication services occupied, a good portion of 
the day, and were conducted in a manner harmonious 
and profitable. The singers performed their onerous 
duty in a temper remarkably free from discontent and 
bickering, which was perhaps in a measure attributa- 
ble to the soothing influence of the German viol, which, 
so far as our knowledge extends, was then, for the first 
time, introduced into a house of worship, in the place. 

But the Dedication Dinner was declared to be the 
crowning glory of the day. And as we have at hand 
a long letter, Avritten by one who was present, giving, 
in graphic terms, an account of the affair, wo cannot 
do better than avail ourselves of it, and transcribe as 
follows : 

" Y® Deddication Dinner was had in y*^ great barne 
of M"" Hoode, which by reason of its goodl}^ size was 
deemed y° most fit place. It was neatly adorned with 



28G NOTABLE THINGS. 

green bows & otlier hangings & made very faire to 
look upon, y" wreaths being mostly wrought by y" 
young I'ullc, they meeting together, both maids and 
young men and having a merry time in doing y*' pleas- 
ant worke. Y^ rough stalls & unhewed po!?ts being 
gay]}' begirt, and all y^ corners & cubbies being clean 
swept and well aired, it truly did appear a meet ban- 
quettiug hall. Y* scaffoldes too, from which y^ pro- 
vinder had been removed, were swept clean as broome 
could make them. And they too had comely decora- 
tions. 

" Some seats were put up on y^ scaffoldes, whereon 
might sit such of y^ antient women as would see y® 
doings ; also maids and children. And thereon I did 
descry, on looking up, as I sat at meate, some dames 
with knitting worke; showing good ensample for in- 
dustry to y** younger ones about them. But most that 
I did see thereon were maidens & children, being all 
in their best attire and with smiling faces. Y® white 
capps of y^ old folk, looked neat and tidy and y® hair 
of y'' maids being some in braides and some in curls, 
was glossy & beautyful to look upon. 

« Y« great floor was all held for y*' company which 
was to partake of y® feast of fat things, none others 
being admitted there save them that were to wait 
upon y*^ same. Y* kine that were wont to be there, 
were forced to keep holiday in y® field. And y" fowles, 
save such as were kept for service on y® table, were 
likewise made to pass y® time without, tho they Avould 
sometimes make endeavor to get back to roost upon 
y® beam that ran above y'' table; which was not per- 
mitted seeing what harm might come to them that sat 
beneath. 

"But while y^ company were busy with their knives 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 287 

and forks, a lusty one did steal his way to y^ beam, 
where, mayhap, he might have perched till y® ieast was 
thro had it not happened in this wise: A savory dish 
had just been put smoking upon y° table, and M"^ Ro- 
gers was helping himself therefrom with y^ great horn 
spoon, when lo, y'^ whole was spoiled by y** unmannerly 
doing of y'' i'owl above, who must needs just then 
scratch down an aboundance of dirty litter, making y® 
soup look well peppered. Some did much laugh at 
y® comical turn. And thereupon y° cock must needs 
crow aud look down upon us seemingly well pleased 
with his dirty doing. 

"M"" Shepard's face did turn very red; and without 
speaking he catched up an apple and hurled it at y* 
misbehaving bird. But he thereby made y® bad matter 
worse, for y^ fruit being well aimed, it hit y'' legs of 
y** fowl and brought him floundering and flapping right 
down upon y'^ table, scattering gravy, sauce, & divers 
other unclean things upon our garments and in our 
faces. But tho this did not well please some, yet with 
most it was a happening that made great merryment. 

"Dainty meats were on y^ table in great plenty, as 
bear stake, deer meat, rabbit & fowle both wilde and 
from y^ barn yard. Luscious puddings we likewise 
had in aboundance, mostly apple and berry, but some 
of corn meal, with small bits of sewet baked therein; 
also pyes & tarts. And we had some pleasant fruits, 
as apples, nuts & wild grapes. And to croAvn all, we 
had plenty of good cydar & y" inspiring Barbadoes 
drink. 

"M'' Shepard and most of y'' ministers were grave & 
prudent at table, discoursing much upon y'' great points 
of y^ deddication sermon, & in silence laboui'ing upon 
y® food before them. But I will not risque to say on 



288 NOTABLE THINOa 

which they dwelt with most relish, 7* discourse or 
dinner. Most of y" young members of y® Council tt 
Committee would fain make a jolly time of it. 

" AP Gerrish, y^ Wenham minister, tho prudent ir his 
meats & drinks, was yet in right merry mood. And 
he did once grievously scandalize M"" Shepard, who, on 
suddenly looking up from his dish, did spy him, as he 
thot winking in an unbecoming way to one of y" pretty 
damsels on y'' scafTolde. And thereupon bidding y° 
godly M"" Rogers to labor with him aside for his misbe- 
haviour, it turned out that y® winking was occasioned 
by some of y® hay seeds that were blowing about, 
lodging in his eye ; whereat M"" Shepard felt greatly 
releaved. 

" Y^ aged Obadiah Turner sat next to M' Gerrish at 
table, ho being one of y® building committee, & much 
thot of for his many good doings in y'= space of his 
long life. Being somo deaf, he must fain keep his 
gray head curiously bobbing round, lest he should 
lose some of the good sayings which were uttered by 
y® company. He was temperate in his drinks & in his 
meats, but brim full of merry thots. He was too 
old, ho said, to make much discourse, or he would 
relate many wonderful things of y° antient dnys of y® 
Plantation, y^ Collony, y'' old people here & of our 
blessed church. And one asking him how it came 
about that he so well remembered so many curious 
things wliich every body declared he did, of y^ old 
times, he said that for many years, lie every day writ 
down all wonderful things that hai)pened, <fe had now 
in his front room desk, enow records to make a faire 
booke. 

" Master Rogers & Master Shepard held some talk 
in Latin, a part whereof seemed to concern Timothy 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 289 

Alden, who sat about y'' middle of y'' table. He was a 
man of middle age, and of y^ Maiden clnirch. He had 
not been soe prudent in using y® good things as others 
had. I did discern many spots of gravy and blotches 
of sauce upon his garments which 1 did not tliink y' 
fowle spattered there. Ilis speach grew thick & his 
eyes heavy, and y'' company were much pained to hear 
him of a sudden break out with parts of a mawdlin 
song. But presently one inviting him to walk out and 
view Goodman Boardman his wonderful calfe, he did 
go. And as they walked adown y" lane, arm in arm, 
we did hear parts of y^ song, brot back on y" wind, 
growing less & less as y® distance grew. 

" Y** new Meeting House was much discoursed upon 
at y^ table. And most thot it as comely a house of 
worship as can be found in y° whole Collony, save only 
three or four. 

"M"" Richardson, y'^ Newberry minister, in a ver}' loud 
voice & stately mien, proclaimed that tho y° house was 
a noble temple, it yet was but a fit casket for y** godly 
jewel of Lynn to shine in. Whereupon a most lusty 
crow was set up by y"' same old cock that had been on 
y® beam. He now appeared poised on y** upper win- 
dow sill looking down upon us with great seeming sau- 
ciness. Y° crow, being in approval, as it appeared, of 
y^ pleasant speach of M' Richardson, did greatly amuse 
y* whole company. They shouted & clapped their 
hands in great glea. 

'^ And whSn y° uproare about y° old rooster was 
ended, M" Shepard arose and with profound obeisance 
to right and left, in great modesty sayd that y° lustre 
of y" jewel, he feared, would be much dimmed in y" 
brighter glow of some other that might from time to 
time shine in y" same casket, and he looked smilingly 
M 19 



290 KOTABLE THINGS. 

on M'" Roger?, as if in bim behoUling such a jev.'el. 
And thereupon y" cock crew again, & flapping his 
wings put astir much dust and litter, which iuU upon 
y® table. Many of y^ company now hurled apples at 
y" misbehaveing fowle, but they not being good of aim, 
only two came within half a score of inches of his 
perch. He then stretched out his neck, and looking 
down upon us, made a strange whirring noise, as if ho 
would deride us, as well as he couhl with his unman- 
ageable voyce, and flew out upon y*^ ground, seemingly 
in great disgust. 

" M'" Gerrish was in such merry mood that he kept. 
y® end of y® table whereby he sat in right jovial 
humour. Some did loudly laugh & clap their hands. 
But in y** middest of y® merryment, a strange disaster 
did happen unto him. Not haveing his thots about 
him, he endeavoured y° dangerous peifoiniance of 
ga[)ing & laughing at y° same time, which he nnist now 
feel is not so easy or safe a thing. In doing this, ho 
set his jaws open in such wise that it was beyond all 
his power to bring them together again. His agonie 
was very great, and his joyful laugh soon turned to 
grievous groaning. Y* women on y'^ scafTohlcs became 
much distressed for him. And y*^ pretty daughter of 
my neighbour John Armitage, leaning over for to look 
did lose her poise, & would have broke her bones by 
falling to y" floor, had not y° strong arms of one by 
catclied her. 

"We did our utmost to stay y^ anguish of M"" Ger- 
rish, but could make out little till M"" Rogers, who 
knoweth somewhat of anatomy, did bid y" sufferer to 
sit down on y® floor; which being done AP Rogers 
took y® head atween his legs, turning y*' face as much 
upward as possible, and then gave a powerful blow & 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 291 

ffiidden press wliicli brot y® jaws again into working- 
order. But Master Gerrish did not gape or laugh 
much more, on that occasion, you may be sure 5 nei- 
ther did he talk much, for that matter. 

" No other weighty mishap occurred, save that one 
of y® Salem delegates, in boastfully essaying to crack 
a Avalnut atween his teeth, did crack instead of y* nut 
a most useful double tooth, & was thereby forced to 
appear at y° evening meeting with a bandaged face. 

" There was much sound discourse at table on y" 
affairs of our church and y® churches about us; of 
their difficultys & tryals; how they become from time 
to time exercised & distracted by wolves getting in 
amongst y® flocks, so many constantly comeing here 
from abroad, of unsound doctrine & ungodly lives. 
Such, comeing and preaching their pestigions doc- 
trines, shock all godly people and make nothing but 
mischief amongst us. And we greatly fear that in 
years to come y° wicked seeds that they sowe ma)'' 
spring up, and if not choak to deadly effect, yet greatly 
obstruct y® growth of true religion in y® land. Much 
to this purpose was talked over by y*' ministers and 
delegates present. 

"Obadiah Turner did make bold to reply that all 
goodness was not confined to y® old ways. In some 
new things there might be truth and comfort, and for 
his part, he was moved to look into now pretentions 
before proclaiming them to be of y® Devil, & see if 
there be not some good that might be picked out ; 
saying that he did not beleave that y^ Devil ever j'-et 
had entire possession of a human heart; & saying, too, 
that there be them in our midst who would fain do 
God's work in judging of y« hearts of men ; wliich he 
did not deem meet. And he asked where our blessed 



292 NOTABLE THINGS. 

Christianity would have been had everj body beeped 
their skirts clear of it while it was a new thing. Some 
wondered at heareing y® good old man talk in that 
wise; but all listened with good heed to his short 
speech. 

" Much likewise was said about y"' affairs of y*^ Collo- 
ny, & what they across y'' water ma}' be doing for and 
against us. It is undenyable that we have reason to 
fear that matters will not long go so smoothely with 
us as they have gone, for we have learned that divers 
scandalous sayings have been uttered against us to ears 
in high places. King Charles we do not think loves 
us overmuch, tho we be loj'al subjects, and in y*' late 
terrible war did our utmost to extend &. make firm and 
sure his rule in these parts. 

"And on these political matters M"^ Turner did like- 
wise have a short say, warmly affirming that y'' people 
of this goodly land will one day become a mighty 
people & will then pay back y® wrongs committed on 
their weakness. Y" whole table clapped heartily at 
his sayings. And one whom modesty would have me 
hold nameless here, called on all present to drink to 
y® health and long life of Master Turner. It was done 
with much good will, by some in y*' use of cydei-, and 
by others in y® use of stronger drink. Whereupon 
M' Turner replied, that as to y'' long life he bad al- 
ready had that, & as to y" health, God had much blessed 
him thro y® many years that he had lived, and he hoped 
that for y" little part remaining, no heavy pains wero 
in store for him. 

" Master Gerrish did move to much laughter by a 
short speach, of great wit, about women folk. This 
was before y* happening of ,y^ terrible accident to his 
jaws. And it was greatly relished by y*^ fairc ones on 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 293 

y^ scaffoldes as well as by us below. And I did behold 
many sparkling eyes peeping over & many thanks de- 
scending upon bis head in y'^ shape of bits of ever- 
green. 

" Master Shepard would fain give us some discourse 
in Latin. But so many not knowing that tongue it 
made little stir, tho y'' Doctor from Cambridge took it 
upon him to talk much of it, saying that it was very 
brave and learned. 

" Some songs were sung, mostly concearning old 
Englande and things there ; none of y*^ songs being 
unseemly in such a company & on such an occasion. 
Divers psalms and bymns were likewise sung, y® wo- 
men upon y® scaffoldes joining in with us below. 

"Most of y*' company were at times much exercised 
with laughter, which hath been deemed healthful. And 
60 I think it is, in moderation. But too much is weak- 
ening as hath been sayd ; the which seemeth true, for 
one or two of y^ lay bretheren on this occasion, who 
did laugh most roisterly, became so weakened that 
their heads must needs loll from side to side in great 
looseness. 

"Wo also had riddles and blind sayings put for to 
guess out, & many other cleaver things to make y® 
time pass pleasantly. 

" And on y® whole we did find much profit as well as 
pastime in y*' occasion, being right well pleased with 
what our ears did hear and our appetites did find. So 
noble and savoury a banquet was never before spread 
in this now famous town. So said Master Turner; & 
80 all said. 

" God be praised." 

And so ends the contemporaneous acconnt of the 
great Dedication Dinner. As the shades of evening 



294 NOTABLE THINGS. 

gatliorcd the friends from abroad retired as guests to 
the liospitable homes of the villagers. In many flirai- 
lies, the capacious brick oven l)ad been put in requisi- 
tion, and the supf)crs that smoked upon the tables on 
that evening, might well induce tliose who liad been 
partakers of the public feast, to mourn for their lost 
appetites. 

An evening meeting was held at the new meeting 
house, which was attended by the clergy and many 
other grave people. Mr. Gerrish preached one of his 
most luminous doctrinal discourses. And from his 
solemn manner one might have imagined that not a 
merry word had passed his lips nor a smile illuminated 
his countenance in a month's time. There was still a 
little stiffness in his jaws, but not sufficient to prevent 
liis usual clearness of utterance. 

The young folk assembled at a dedication ball in 
the little hall over the room which was formoily occu- 
pied as the store of Dexter and Laighton. Some of 
the delegates and others from abroad had bi-ought 
their daughters, sisters and sweethearts. And what 
entertainment could be more agreeable to these, than 
a moderate and modest indulgence in the fascinating 
mazes of the dance ? They had a merry time ; and 
as it afterward appeared such impressions were made 
as finally resulted in the transplanting into hynn of 
two or three of the most beautiful flowers that the 
neigliboring settlements afforded. And the gay com- 
pany were not at all overawed nor surprised on be- 
holding, after the services at the meeting house were 
over, half a score or more of sober vis:iged men and 
women enter and seat themselves on the bench that 
ran along the side of the hall, and remain, complacently 
gazing on the happy scene, till the festivities closed. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 295 

One rrifiy be pardoned for feeling a little amused at 
eome of the inconsistences exhibited in the foregoing 
details. But they are characteristic of human nature. 
It may pei'haps be said that the old settlers in some 
respects set their standard for the regulation of con- 
duct higher than human nature would bear; and in 
their attempts to climb the height, became subject to 
man}' slips and backward slides. Numerous instances 
might be referred to in which there certainly was no 
marked unity between their precepts and practices. 

To speak again of dancing: they denounced that as 
one of the Devil's most cunning ti'aps by which to 
ensnare the youthful soul ; but yet there is abundant 
evidence that they regarded the dedication or ordina- 
tion ball as a proper adjunct. Perhaps the most godly 
people attended, and so made it what it ought to be ; 
thus taking a different course from some modern good 
people who never try to improve the world by exam- 
ple, but delight to stand afar off and fire gospel blun- 
derbusses that echo about men's ears, attract attention 
and may once in a while damage some redout of the 
evil one. 

Those worthy fathers had fled from religious perse- 
cution and the slavery of the old world: but once in 
power here, they deemed it meet to deny to those who 
could not conscientiously come into full communion 
with them some of the dearest rights of citizenship. 
And while preaching temperance in all things and lib- 
erty and equality for all men there appear to have 
been those among them who were without a protest 
shipping Indian prisoners of war to Barbadoes, to be 
sold into slavery for return cargoes of rum. And the 
Old Tunnel itself had its "nigger pew," as it was pop- 
ularly called — a close board erection, high up from 



296 NOTABLE THINGS. 

the giillery, in the extreme northeast corner of the 
house, xiud there the poor cuHys had to sit, shut up 
like lepers, unseeing and unseen, while their grave 
masters — ibr there was negro skvery in the Bay- 
State in those days — sat in the airy couits below, 
listening to the glorious gospel of liberty and equality. 

The sin of incontinence was, by these pious men, 
deemed of the blackest dye; but the agreeable custom 
of " bundling " by no means shocked them ; and the 
blooming fruits of the institution who so frequently 
appeared at the baptismal font, even in the Old Tunnel, 
attested to its popularity. 

But some might call such apparent inconsistences 
by another name. Human nature is perverse and 
inclined to rebel against rigid exaction. The strict- 
ness demanded may have led some to revolt, and 
recede towards the opposite extreme; forming, as it 
were, a separate party in the midst of another. And 
each party may have pursued a course consistent with 
itself. This, however, is simply saying, in another 
way, that the righteous may have been consistent in 
their pretentions and the unrighteous in theirs. And 
no one will dispute that. But the fact still remains 
that many of the good settlers entertained the antag- 
onisms in their own individual breasts. 

And now, in drawing our volume to a close, we 
propose introducing a few sketches of the jewels 
that shone in the Old Tunnel during its earlier days, 
though some of the brighter ones, who have shed their 
lustre in other parts of our volume, Avill not be recalled. 
And these sketches we shall intersperse with occa- 
fcional brief details of occurrences that seem worthy 
of notice. As before remarked, however, it is not a 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 297 

part of our plan to treat of persons or events pertain- 
ing to times subsequent to 1699, excepting in cases 
where it may appear incidentally necessary. 

We have a disposition to present the bright side of 
things. Though in our progress we have not shrunk 
from presenting the dark side when duty seemed to 
require. There is an old adage that it is better to 
rejoice than weep. And Providence has ordered that 
in the world there shall be much more to excite pleasu- 
rable than sad sensations; thus plainly indicating that 
the former are more approved than the latter. And 
we have endeavored, under these views, to deliver our- 
selves in an agreeable way. So if the reader should 
in our pages discover anything that seems like plea- 
santry he will please consider it as dictated by princi- 
ple, rather than as a spontaneous breach of that gravity 
which natuie has always striven to furce upon us. 

We commenced our task in an agreeable frame of 
mind, induced by the modest determination to be sat- 
isfied if by this Book we should be so foitunate as to 
contribute sufficient to sweeten what would equal one 
life time. And now let us see what sort of a calcula- 
tion may reasonably be made. 

In every year of one's lite there will ordinarily be 
three hundred and fifty days, during each of which 
eight hours will be spared from sleep and other neces- 
sary and recreative demands. And hence there will 
be in every year twenty eight hundred hours thus 
spared. And in sixty years, which are quite as many 
as can be calculated on aside from those of infincy 
and sickness, thei-e will be one hundred :ind sixty eight 
thousand hours to be provided foi". Now we trust 
that every person who reads this volume will find ten 
hours of his precious life pleasantly and not unprofita- 



298 NOTABLE THINGS. 

bly occupied. And in the same modest wny we trust 
that seventeen thousand individuals will read the vol- 
ume. Not that there will be that number of copies 
published, at least of the first edition; for if but three 
thousand are published and each of these is read by 
six persons, we shall have eighteen thousand readings, 
which, multiplied by ten, the number of hours devoted 
by each reader, gives us one hundred and eighty thou- 
sand hours, which is indeed twelve thousand hours 
more than our estimate requires. As regaixls the 
quality and intensity of the enjoyment to be derived 
from a perusal of our volume, we have not sufficient 
boldness to speak. And we beg the reader not to 
conclude that these abstruse calculations have been 
entered into for an ostentatious display of mathemat- 
ical acquirements, but because by them some other 
hitherto unprofitable steward may be incited to attempt 
something for the increase of the common stock from 
which the happiness of the world is in general de- 
rived. In almost all cases difficulties lessen as we 
meet them. And viewing or meeting an obstacle in 
detail wonderfully reduces its formidablenoss. A cen- 
tury is no great of an affidr, disposed of by hours. 

There is, however, another thought connocfed with 
this matter of time. How can one individual know 
■what the exact conception of another is as to time? 
In other words, reader, how can you determine that 
an hour as marked by the clock, does not appear full 
five times as long to 3'ou as it does to me? That 
it may possibly be so, is shown by the fict that in a 
dream one may in five minutes go througli scenes that 
in real life he could not go through in ten hours if in 
twenty. This proves that it is not the absolute dura- 
tion but our conception of it. Two men make an ap- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 299 

pointment to meet in one hour. Tliey do meet at the 
given lime, for both understand what the period out- 
wardlv and arbitrarily marked as an hour is; but in 
the mean time they may have lived, so to speak, essen- 
tially different periods, as determined by their mental 
conceptions. This is evidently true from the fact, 
long since stated and by every man's experience con- 
firmed, that as we grow older the years appear to 
decrease in length. It has been satisfactorily estab- 
lished that to one of the age of ten, a year seems just 
as long as four years will seem to the same individual 
at the age of forty. 

And further, who can say that as regards the lower 
animals, the conceptions of time may not be very dif- 
ferent in different species, or even in different individ- 
uals of the same species? Who is competent to show 
that what we call the fleeting life of a butterfly may not 
be to him as long as three score and ten years are to 
a man ? 

Soon after noting down these reflections we hap- 
pened to take in hand a volume of the Spectator, and 
presently came across some speculations similar to one 
or two of them. The first impulse was to ruthlessly 
strike out what we had written, both because the old 
moralist expressed liimseH much more felicitously, and 
because ours might seem like imitations. But on sec- 
ond thought we concluded to do no such thing; for 
however much a line or two might appear like imita- 
tion, we could boldly challenge both word and thought 
as our own and truthfully declare that we had not read 
the others till ours were in black and white ; though 
perhaps wo ought to blush in acknowledging such 
unacquaintanee with so approved a model in English 
literature. Instead therefore of molestino; the lines 



300 KOTABLB THLNGS. 

we even took comfort from the circumstancs tliat our 
speculatioDs had for once run in so high a channel as 
those of the wise and virtuous Spectator of ohl. 

The occurrence, however, gave rise to still other 
reflections. No doubt writers have often been charged 
with the really heinous offence of plagiarism when they 
were not guilty. The same idea might spring up in 
several minds; and one might give expression to it 
without knowing that another had anticipated him, 
when in fict such was the case. It is only when the 
phraseology or something else renders guilt morally 
certain that the offensive charge can be justified. We 
recently observed in a southern publication a some- 
what singular explanation given in a defence against a 
charge of plagiarism. It was, that yeai's before, the 
passage on which the charge rested had been atten- 
tively read and deeply impressed upon the mind ; and 
had been made use of without once realizing that it 
was merely an offspring of the memory and not other- 
wise of the mind. And this explanation was accepted 
as sufficient. It may be observed, that intelligent 
writers often quote, without designating as quota- 
tions, phrases and even more extended passages, that 
are presumed to be so well known as to leave no one 
in error as to their origin. It seems as if none but a 
critic in a high fever would object to this. It is sim- 
ply relying on tlie intelligence of the reader instead 
of occupying space by references or disfiguring the 
page by inverted commas and apostrophes. 

There is a curious conceit that we remember to have 
come across in an old writer, to the effect that a cer- 
tain number of ideas were originally created for the 
use of the whole race, and that these have been circu- 
lating ever since, sometimes turning up in one brain, 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING EOUSE. 301 

in one shape, and then in another brain in another 
shape, but always essentially the same. Perhaps, how- 
ever, it miglit be better to say that it was originally 
ordained that the human brain should be capable of 
working in just so many different ways; thus being 
able to produce just so many different thonglits or 
ideas and when in different brains similar or identical 
action takes place corresponding thoughts are pro- 
duced. If anythiug like this is true, the power of 
action must be almost without limit; sufficient for tho 
production of more erratic and airy wanderers than 
the solar system could accommodate. 

It would cost us too much self-denial not to add 
that there was one passage in the volume of the Spec- 
tator alluded to from which we drew considerable 
comforting assurance. The very unassuming author 
thouglit that twenty Avould be a "modest computa- 
tion" of those who would peruse each of his papers. 
Now we had put down the number of our readers at 
only six. We do not recall this to appear more mod- 
est than he, but for the opportunity to add that if tho 
reader should consider ours, in quality, as standing, in 
regard to the Spectator as six to twenty, we should 
be ready to declare ourselves abundantly satisfied. 

One does not half understand a man by reading a 
grave and stately biography of him. And tlie biogra- 
pher who treats only of his Subject's most dignified 
traits leaves his work half done. Glimpses of his 
every daj' life, of his loves and hates, his labors and 
recreations, are needed for a proper understanding. 
We would know what kind of meat he prefers for his 
dinner, whether he loves plum broth and veal pie, as 
well as what books he has on his library shelves, or 



302 KOTABLE TinXGS. 

wliat ptndios occnp\' liis attention. It is intcrostiniz; to 
leaiii wlietluM" lie walks eiect and is of perlect iurm, 
or stoops ill his gait, is bandy-legged, or splay-footed; 
whether he wears an old hat and red waistcoat, or is a 
dandy with curled liair and white kids. If he twitches 
and jerks and touches the posts as he Avalks the street, 
we like to be told of it. Wliether the little girls get 
kisses and the little boys culTs when he meets them, 
or beggars get pennies or curses it is always interest- 
ing to know. 

Boswell, who certainly was not deserving of mar- 
tyrdom for his intellectual eminence, produced a won- 
derfully iiiteiesting biography of that giant in intellect 
and ill manners, about whom he so long revolved as 
an obsequious satellite — a biography which will inter- 
est mankind for ages to come. But if in place of that 
gossiping author, one of the loft}' sort had undertaken 
the work the popular recollection of both subject and 
writer v.-ould by this time have reached the verge of 
oblivion. 

The letters of groat men usually furnish most accept- 
able reading, for in them are generally I'oniid geiniine 
breathings of (he spirit. And in prejiaring the biogra- 
phical sketches in this volume, we have many times 
had occasion to lament the impossibility of procuring 
more letters and scraps of writing whereby to eni-ich 
our pages. But most of the worthies were little 
accustomed to the use of the pen beyond what the 
common affairs of life demanded. Wo have gathered 
what materials we could from contemporaneous sources 
and endeavored, in an impartial way, to digest them 
for the reader's benefit. 

Such considerations as appear in the foregoing, in- 
duce us to belicvo that the following [lassages from an 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 303 

old letter wliicli seems to have been tlio prodnctioD of 
one ISamuol Walton would prove Iiigldy acceptable. 
Wlietlier the writer was of the same line with piscatory 
Izaak, we cannot say, though the genius of the two 
seems to have been developed much in the same direc- 
tion. We consider the letter a treasure, giving, as it 
does, a grapliic view of one or two cliaracteristics of 
Mr. She])ard, the first minister of the Old Tunnel, 
which wo have nowhero else seen alhided to: 

"Thii minister, M"" Shcpard, tho in no wise giuen 
to saying or doeing any but grave things, yet hath 
Gome loves tliat be not of the studio or the pul[)itt. 
And amoung Ids loves he doth reckon eals. lie will 
Gometiines try the sport of catching the snme. And 
I wouM fain tell of a time we had on the ryvcr of Sau- 
gust, of a cold day, with our speares. 

" M"^ Shepard did say to mo, in y*^ morning, ' Samuel,' 
sayd he, * I do beleave in eals, and am minded to go to 
the ryver this afternoon and spcaro for some, not 
haveing had a dish of the dainty things since y° last 
week, of a Tewsday; and, Samuel, I would have you 
go with mo.' 

" ' Well, Master Shcpard,' quoth T, ' it would suit me 
well to go, and I will call for you in good time, with 
my hand sled & speare.' 

"'So do, so do, Samuel,' sayd ho, 'and I must de- 
pend upon you, as you come ahmg, to call at M"" Pur- 
chis's house, & get the loan of his speare, as I hauo 
none. And I will be ready with an axe wherewith to 
cut tho lioles in the ice, against your coincing with tho 
clod. And the Damo will likewise make ready for us 
a bite of something whereby to stay our stomacks. 
And if you have a mind, Samuel, you may bring along 
youi' litllu retl keg, for mine hath saci'anient wine in it, 



304 NOTABLE THINGS. 

and I will put a little something in y^ same to warm 
our stomacks withal. For it is best, Samuel/ sayd he, 
giveing- his eye a little turn, 'to go prepared to meet 
mishaps.' 

"'Of a truth, Master Shepard,' quoth I, 'you are 
ever mindefiil ofy*^ wants of body as well as soul. The 
keg shall be there.' 

" Presently after dinner I did as M"" Shepard had bid 
me, calling at M"^ Purchis's for the speare and being at 
the house betimes. Y"^ minister Avas already in his 
warm mufflers, red leggins and big bootes. So we 
soon got on our way to the ryver, I dragging the sled 
and he bearing y*' two speares on his shoulder, they 
not riding well on the sled. We held much grave dis- 
course on the road, about the Deuil & his late doeings 
hereabout by witchcraftes and other diabolical contri- 
vances, and y'^ defeats put on him by God's power thro 
his servants the godly ministers. 

"Getting upon the ryver, we straightwny set about 
our work, the time being short before sunsottiiig. Our 
holes in y° ice being cut, 'Now,' quoth I to Master 
Shepard, 'stir about, stir about, for the air is mighty 
chill; and 1 d;\re promise we shall have a goodly mess 
and be ready for home afore night cometh on.' 

"Some lusty prey soon fell to vs, whereat we took 
encouragement & did not note y*' time till nigh the 
going down of the sun. The cold grew to be very 
great, insomuch that when we wetted our garments 
they presently froze stiff. And to our grout discom- 
fort the wind from the northeaste, began (o blow hard 
and the snow to fly. By a mishap, when cutting a 
fresh hole, y'^ axe slipped from m}- benumbed hand and 
went to the bottom, greatly to our grief, fur I ho loss 
of it was more than the gains by all the eals that we 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 305 

could hope to catch. But it was a prouidence that 
M"" Shepard well sayd we should bear with patience. 

" It getting- dark apace, I gathered the eals into the 
box vpon the sled, & advertised Master Shepard that 
it was high time to think of moveing; wherevpon he 
withdrew his speare from y® hole, and being about to 
Ktep to the sled, came nigh to breaking his back by a 
forward pitch, not being able to move his feet. 

" ' Mercie on us ! ' quoth he ' why, Samuel, my feet 
are both froze hard to the ice.' 

" I was much terrifyed, and sayd, ' Master Shepard, 
I fear that you did not stir about, as I bid you, when 
we began to speare. Did you not take note that while 
speareing I walked around the hole and keeped my 
feet astir, for y® new water drawing up with the poles 
doth put one in great hazard of freezing down. I be 
not so forward as to hope to instruct mine own minis- 
ter in what doth pertain to y^ holy ordinances or in 
y® learning of y^ schools; but I do think that in spearing 
eals I may show more science than some having greater 
godliness.' 

" ' Samuel,' quoth he, ' you did indeed bid me stir 
about,. but I thot your meaning was to stir the speare, 
about, & that I uerily did, ravch to the weariness of my 
arms, which have suffered great pains with the cease- 
less stirring. But we must not parley, Samuel, for I 
am beginning to greatly .suffer.' 

" The axe being gon I knew not what to do. With 
the speare I could do nothing, y*' prongs bending so 
badly. And while casting about for some other means, 
quoth M'^ Shepard, 

" ' Come hither, Samuel, and stand with your back 
towards me, & near. You are shorter than I, and by 
putting my hands vpon your shoulders, and gaining as 

20 



306 NOTABLE THINGS. 

they say a purchase for the strongest muscles, I may 
peradventure strain my bootes from the ice or myself 
from the bootes, tbo they are mightie tight about the 
ankle.' 

"'Well thot of,' quoth I, and stood as he did bid 
me. But I came nigh being crushed by y^ force he 
put vpon me, in the tryals to free himself; yet he could 
do nothing. 

" ' Samuel,' cryed he, * this is indeed a bad business, 
and I know not what is to come of it. But no time is 
to be lost, for the darkness is already vpon us ; and 
besides, y*^ snow is falling fast <fe y'^ cold is very great. 
Haste you to the nearest habitation and crave succor. 
Bring a kettle of hot water, an axe, or some means 
whereby I may be discharged from this vile imprison- 
ment. And, Samuel, bring likewise a little something 
warming to take within, for that brought in the keg 
hath long since been exhausted.' 

" I essayed to do as he would have me, when lo, 
much to my distress I found that I too had been 
imprudent in too long standing still, & was myself a 
prisoner, being frozen down as strong as Master Shep- 
ard. Casting about as to what had best be done, we 
could fix on nothing. And all y*' time y® bad matter 
getting worse, our hearts did begin to fail us. 

" ' Samuel,' again cryed M' Shepard, after some thot, 
' we have nothing left, as I see, to' depend on, save our 
lungs. We must set up a halloing, such as shall be 
heard by some wayfarer, if such should happen to be 
upon the road ; or, if there be no traueller abroad, 
then we must make ovrselues heard as far off as yonder 
habitations at the foot of the hill, or even to y^ tavern 
beyond. And, Samuel, we must do it speedily, or 
every thimble full of marrow in our bones will be 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 307 

chilled, and we shall be buryed vp in y® snow which 
begins to drift so around vs.' 

" ' Had Ave not better/ quoth I, ' sing a psalm to- 
gether, for by so doeing we may make a chord, as it 
were twisting our voyces together and thereby making 
a louder alarrum. And by the means of a psalm we 
may likewise be crying for earthly help and praiseing 
God at y^ same time, which we should always do.' 

*• ' Well thot of,' returned he, ' well thot of. Samuel, 
there is always some good thing turning up in your 
mind ; but if there be any of those high keyed songs 
of the world's people that might be heard farder off 
or catch the ear quicker than a psalm or hymn, strike 
out vpon one, and I doubt not that God will overlook 
our prophanity in our extremity.' 

" ' I think. Master Shepard,' said I, ' that we should 
neuer do wrong, be the extremity what it may. And 
I make bold to exhort to the use of a psalm, in the 
first place.' 

" ' Well, well, Samuel,' quoth he, ' a psalm it shall 
be ; and we must quickly strike the same or it will be 
all ouer with vs. Begin, Samuel, begin; and have a 
care that the pitch is high.' 

" * Nay, nay, Master Shepard,' returned I, ' but you 
know better than I y^ psalm best suited to our condition 
and peril.' 

*' ' 'Sdeath, Samuel,' he replyed, with some quick- 
ness, * we must lose no time in parleying.' And there- 
upon he put his hands vpon his hipps, and commenced 
in a mighty voyce y® most comforting words of the 
psalm set to y® enspiring tune of Goodhope. And we 
did sing with all our might, haveing greater care for 
noise than musick. 

" Presently we did hear one vp y^ lane, calling loudly 



308 NOTABLE THINGS. 

for alarnim, declaring that lie heard y® vilde beasts 
crying down from the woods, and bidding all come 
forth with musquets for to shoot them. Then great 
fear did come vpon vs lest we should be fired vpon 
thro the darkness and shot for wild beasts. So we 
stopped our song and ]VP Shepard cryed in plain words 
of great lamentation and with a lusty vo3'ce. And 
presently to our great releaf and the saveing of our 
poor, frail bodys some were made to hear our cryes 
and understand our distresses. They speedily came 
to our rescue ; and all declared that we were just 
freezing and that in a few minutes all would have been 
ouer with vs. Not being able to walk, the}' carrj^ed us 
in a tender manner to y® tavern, where we were well 
warmed within and swaddled and doctored. But we 
have greatly suffered euer since. 

" I haue fears that ovr disasters be in some way the 
work of the old serpent the Devil, for eals be some- 
what in likeness of y*" serpent kind. And henceforth I 
will no more meddle with what may be children or 
imps of y® great tempter. And M'' Shepard hath de- 
clared that he no longer beleaves in eals. 

" God be praised for so preserving vs. Amen." 

Among the refugees from European oppression who 
came to North America after the establishment of the 
earlier colonies, there were none more interesting than 
the Huguenots. After the revocation of the edict of 
Nantz many a tearful eye was turned hopefully to- 
wards America, and many of these poor French Pro- 
testants fled to our shores and established themselves 
in little colonies. But the emigration flowed chiefly to 
the south of New England. New York, Virginia, and 
Carolina received them kindly. In some instances 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 309 

special laws were made for their naturalization. And 
as they were in very reduced circumstances, large 
donations, public and private, were cheerfully bestow- 
ed on them. Their taxes, for public purposes, were 
very generally remitted. And in various ways they 
were most kindly dealt with till they were able to 
supply their own wants. 

What kind of reception these friendless refugees 
would have met with had they, to any extent, sought 
shelter among the puritan settlements it is not now 
possible to determine. But judging by the course 
pursued toward others the presumption cannot be re- 
garded as favorable. 

The little lodgment that the Huguenots made in 
what is now the town of Oxford, in Worcester county, 
appears to have been their only one hereabout. And 
though the English do not seem to have ever assumed 
a decidedly hostile attitude towards this inconsiderable 
colon}^, they yet do not appear to have offered them 
aid or comfort. Alone they heroically met the assaults 
of the Indians, and endured the keenest privations and 
sternest perils. But they finally dwindled away and 
disappeared, without having received help, sympathy, 
or even christian recognition. 

It was as true of the Huguenots as ot any people 
that the earth ever bore, that they forsook their loved 
firesides and homes for Religion's sake. By that one 
fatal stroke of malign power, the revocation by Louis 
the fourteenth of the gracious edict of Henry the 
fourth, more than fifty thousand were forced to flee, 
stripped of their possessions, and urged on by the 
dread apprehension of the scaffold, the dagger and the 
faggot. Numbers turned their eyes to lands beyond 
the western wave. True, a wilderness lay before them ; 



310 NOTABLE THINGS. 

but behind tliem loomed the red fires of St. Bartholo- 
mew's. 

It is refreshing to find that among the churchmen of 
New York and Virginia, if nowhere else on the Ame- 
rican shores, the poor Huguenots found a peaceful 
retreat. And in after years their noble blood that 
flowed down through the veins of Jay, Lauren?, Bou- 
dinot, and a host of others whose names have become 
illustrious in American history, abundantly repaid for 
all the benevolent efforts that were put forth to save 
them in the day of peril. 

On a chill, drizzly Sunday afternoon, in November, 
just before the hour for the commencement of the 
services at tho Old Tunnel, there approached along 
the road that wound up the middle of the open Com- 
mon, a stranger, of such appearance as to attract the 
attention of the loungers about the porches and horse 
sheds. He was a gentleman, seemingly about fifty years 
of age, tall, erect, and of fine proportions. His hair 
was slightly lined with gray, and dark mustaches 
curled upon his lip. His whole bearing was singu- 
larly dignified and commanding. But his highly in- 
tellectual countenance bore the impress of care and 
sorrow. He wore, buttoned closely to his throat, a 
coat cut in French military style, but without any 
decorations indicative of the soldier's profession. 

Leaning upon one arm of this stranger was a lady 
of middle age and extremely prepossessing appear- 
ance. Her fine form and features attracted many ad- 
miring eyes. But her countenance, like his, seemed 
clouded by sorrow and anxiety. 

Upon his other side tripped a beautiful girl of some 
seventeen summers. She carried in her hand a bou- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 311 

qiiet of late autumn flowers that she had evidently 
gathered on her way across the Common. She wore 
a fashionably trimmed French bonnet, and had the 
appearance of one tenderly bred. Occasionally she 
would almost pause in her walk, to bestow upon her 
parents, for such the others seemed to be, a look so 
full of confiding love, and withal so tinged with the 
sorrow that appeared common to them all, that the 
coldest heart might well have been touched. 

On reaching the seat to which they were shown, the 
three strangers knelt, in silent pra3'er, in accordance 
with the ancient and beautiful custom which prevailed 
in all branches of the christian church, from the earli- 
est days till the time when the Puritans commenced 
their purifications. They knelt — and wdiile on their 
knees, a sudden break in the clouds illumined the 
whole house; the warm sunbeams streaming through 
the little diamond panes and falling in inexpressible 
beaut}' upon the bowed heads. The old Romans would 
have deemed this a happy omen, and such strange 
worshipers in some way favored of heaven. But our 
unimaginative fathers probably considered it only as a 
special interposition to enable them the more clearly 
to discern an idolatrous act. 

The services closed, and the congregation retired, 
many of them stopping to lounge in the porches and 
about the doors, to exchange salutations and discuss 
the news and gossip of the week. The strangers 
passed quietly out, and were suffered to go their way 
without receiving any courteous recognition, or even 
the slightest notice be3''ond being rudely stared at. 
But if the villagers said nothing to them they said 
enough about them and their " church fashions." 

Some days passed and it was ascertained that these 



312 NOTABLE THINGS. 

strangers were a family of French Protestants who 
had fled from a happy and hixurious liome with the 
small means that in their hasty retreat they were able 
to secure. Something had attracted them to this par- 
ticular spot, and they came with the intention of ma- 
king arrangements for the purchase of land and the 
establishment of a colony. 

It appeared that the gentleman's name was Boudinot. 
He was able to converse pretty freely in the English 
language, and immediately set about the business for 
which he came. He was not long in paying his re- 
spects to Mr. Shepard and the chief men of the parish, 
for the purpose of making known his plans and inter- 
esting them in behalf of himself and his fellow sufferers. 
But he found them as cold as stones. They seemed to 
possess an extraordinary apprehension of everything 
evolved by a French mind ; talked of the poverty of 
the land ; and expressed in very decided terms their 
dread of having the seeds of spiritual thorns scattered 
in their beautifully tilled portion of the garden of 
the Lord. 

On the day following the third formal conference of 
M. Boudinot with Mr. Shepard and the other chief men, 
there was a great training on the extensive and conve- 
nient area in which the Meeting House was centered. 
An array of booths, in which were sold fruit, cakes, 
beer, cider, and all sorts of muddling drinks, graced 
the sides of the sanctuary. And the legitimate effects 
of these were soon apparent. Some got drunk and 
had fights. Some danced, with lewd girls, in the back 
apartments of the booths, to the music of cracked 
fiddles. Some laughed at the tricks of the buffoons 
and speeches of the mock orators. And some soberly 
watched the evolutions of the soldiers or quietly pro- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 313 

menaded with their wives, daughters or sweethearts, 
mouniiiig, at every spare moment, over such depravity. 

The troops assembled from far and near. And they 
made an imposing display, each individual being array- 
ed very much according to his own fancy. Here was 
a coat of dingy red, and there a jacket of pea-green ; 
here full yellow leather breeches and there gray tights 
and red leggins ; here an unshapely bear skin cap of 
enormous dimensions and ferocious aspect, such as 
might excite the envy of the most uncivilized Russian, 
and there a cap of squirrel or racoon skin, with tail 
erect for a plume — to say nothing of others, of indes- 
cribable material and fashion, decorated, perhaps, by 
an eagle feather or a contribution from the tail of goose 
or. gobbler or even the more lowly inhabitant of the 
barn yard. 

On reviewing them, one might have imagined that 
they had adopted the tactics of the valiant Chinese, 
and depended upon their extraordinary appearance to 
frighten invaders from their territories ; or designed 
such a display as would be pretty sure to render their 
Indian foes stupid from admiration. 

We are sorry to believe, by the way, that the hostility 
towards the Indians, in many instances, received a de- 
cidedly religious coloring. Too many seem to have 
thought that it was doing God service to destroy the 
red men. And under such circumstances, many who 
would otherwise have been least courageous were 
zealous to meet the dangers of the field, finding it 
much easier to bring their minds to fight for a pass- 
port to heaven than to gain it by repentance and 
amendment. Such has always been the case, both 
before and since the sanguinary lustre of the Crusades 
beamed upon the world. 
N 



314 KOTABLE THINGS. 

But we would certainly say nothing disparagingly of 
the courage of the colonial soldiery. The parade in 
question appears to have been a sort of military fancy 
show — a dress parade, to use a more refined term. 
When they took the field for real service, they went 
forth uniformly accoutred in homel}^ regimentals but 
with hearts undaunted by the prospect of a winter's 
march through snowy wilds, to meet cunning and 
relentless foes ; and with hearts all aglow for their 
homes and their religion. 

The troops, on the bloodless occasion in question, 
performed a variety of extraordinary evolutions. But 
unfortunately, the commander who was somewhat new 
in his position, was inclined to pay his respects to the 
liquor booths rather too often. So about the middle 
of the afternoon, while going through an exercise 
similar to the graceful one of whipping-the-snake, he 
got the whole line inextricably entangled. He was 
extremely mortified at his misadventure before such 
a crowd of spectators, many of whom were from 
abroad ; some, of superior military rank. The poor 
man was in very great perplexity. He strode round, 
ordering and countermanding, sweating and swearing, 
till he was well nigh exhausted. The sober minded 
felt great pain for him. And those disposed to make 
merry over the mishaps of others — there being a few 
such in the world even in those days — gave the reins 
to their risibility. And presently by the excitement of 
some and goadings of others matters seemed to be 
fast passing from the comic to the tragic. Loud hoot- 
ings began to be heard. And here and there strong 
arms were raised, in gyrations demonstrative of any- 
thing but peaceful intent. 

At this juncture M. Boudinot suddenly appeared at 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 315 

the side of the distressed commander. His dark eye 
glowed as if some new inspiration were upon him, and 
he drew liimself up in such a singularly soldierlike and 
commanding attitude as to instantly attract the atten- 
tion of those about him. Without any apologies or 
hesitancy he immediately began, in a clear, full voice, 
to issue orders to the entangled troops, who still con- 
tinued in vain manoeuvring, like some gigantic snake, 
wounded and desperate. Instant obedience followed 
his commands, every soldier seeming as if bound by 
some irresistible impulse to obey. Only a few simple 
orders had been given, when, to the astonishment of all, 
the coils and kinks in the ranks were resolved, and all 
was restored to order. Once wheeled into line, the 
panting soldiers looked upon each other in amaze- 
ment, and then upon their new commander in awe, 
and finally set up such a shout as would, had it been 
all wind, have shaken the very belfry from the Meeting 
House. 

M. Boudiiiot entered with great spirit into the re- 
maining exercises. He took the sword from the unre- 
sisting hand of the commander and marched and drilled 
the men in a manner that excited the greatest admi- 
ration. Under his skillful orders the troops performed 
intricate evolutions with an ease and exactness that 
astonished themselves as well as others. They began 
suddenly to look upon their legions as highly accom- 
plished in the military art, and were not much sur- 
prised when in his terse speech at the time of dismissal 
he declared that after a little further discipline they 
would be fit for an imperial review. 

When M. Boudinot returned his sword to the com- 
mander, tliat then cloudy-minded and abaslied funr-- 
tionary curiously examined it from point to liih, as if 



316 NOTABLE THINGS. 

in search for the hiding place of the talismanic power 
so recently developed. But being disappointed in 
finding it still the same old sword, he attempted no 
further exploits, but dismissed the troops forthwith, 
A number of platoons of volunteers, were, however, 
immediately formed, and with two drums and a fife 
escorted M. Boudinot to his quarters — the dingy little 
village tavern. And there they left him with a round 
of cheers which brought his wife and daughter in 
fright to the scene. 

This exhibition of military skill in M. Boudinot, 
instantly turned the tide. It now set tumultuously in 
his favor, and in twenty four hours overwhelmed every 
objection to his idolatry in kneeling in the Meeting 
House and even to his French brogue. He was now 
looked upon as one able to render essential service in 
the day of peril. Mr. Shepard declared that it would 
be rejecting an offering of Providence to decline re- 
ceiving one so evidently appointed to bo a protector. 
A meeting was immediately held, and it was by accla- 
mation decided to bestow much more than he had pre- 
viously asked. And various* other christian-like and 
honorable acts were resolved on. Indeed it is difficult 
to determine Avhat they would not have done for him 
had it been proposed as a condition on which he would 
remain. 

But within forty eight hours after the setting of the 
sun that rejoiced in beholding that remarkable parade 
of the brave colonial soldiery, M. Boudinot, with his 
soi'rowing little family had departed from Lynn, never 
agaui to set foot upon her soil. They went to Vir- 
ginia, where favorable terms for settling were readily 
obtained and where they were soon joined by others 
who had fled from distracted France. The daughter 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 317 

soon married a wealthy yonng planter. And some of 
the present leading southern families sprang from the 
union. A grandchild of hers was a colonel in the army 
of the Revolution. And one of the most able sena- 
tors, in the present congress of the United States, 
is accustomed to boast of his descent from her. 

Among the noblest efforts of our forefathers were 
those directed towards the founding of educational 
institutions that would enable all classes to receive 
such instruction as would be necessary for success 
in life. 

The establishment of the free schools of New Eng- 
land seems to have been the offspring of a new order 
of thought. The idea had prevailed that the masses, 
if educated, could not be governed by the so called 
divinely constituted authorities. And there was much 
worldly wisdom in the idea. For as soon as the masses 
should become enlightened they might doubt the di- 
vine authority. 

When, however, the New England immigration com- 
menced, this old opinion began to decay, and the con- 
ception that men might possibly possess power to 
govern themselves, began to prevail. And following 
closely on that there seems to have been another, not 
at first clearly defined, but easily traceable, to wit, that 
here, in this newly reclaimed heritage, great experi- 
ments in the art of self-government were destined at 
no very distant day to be undertaken. And prepara- 
tory to such important events, a certain amount, at 
least, of education would be necessary. One of the 
first things set about, then, was the establishment of 
elementary schools. And it is not perhaps too much 
to say, that these early conceptions were the springs 



318 NOTABLE THINGS. 

to wliich are to he traced, in an eminent degree, our 
national happiness and renown. 

At first, the clergy labored much in the educational 
field. Indeed, they may, in a general sense, be spoken 
of as the first teachers. And great honor is due them 
for their zeal and efficiency. They were not accus- 
tomed to plead the inability of the youthful mind to 
bear the burden of study, in excuse for their own indo- 
lence. 

The Third Plantation was always able to boast of 
as efficacious means for the instruction of her youth, 
as any of her sister plantations. And in our highly 
favored time, as appears by the annual reports of the 
committees, the schools within the borders of her 
charter-blessed child are quite unsurpassed by any un- 
der the canopy of heaven. Indeed, do not the state 
educational reports show that the common schools 
throughout the commonwealth are immeasurably' supe- 
rior to anything that the sun has discovered in any 
other place since the time when he commenced his daily 
search into the hidden things of earth. Greece and 
Rome being now in the rear, it may be interesting to 
imagine what we shall arrive at in a couple of centuries 
more. As before remarked, it is a blessed thing to 
have a good opinion of ourselves. But if in making 
known such opinion it is just as convenient to avoid 
odious comparisons and unnecessary detractions, it 
is not objectionable to do so. 

Blessings on those good old fathers for planting 
those educational institutions which have produced 
such glorious fruit. 

Amariah Turnbody — a singular and unbecoming 
name, by the way, and one which it is perhaps fortu- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 319 

nate that he did not have the luck to transmit — sway- 
ed the scholastic sceptre for a time in the little rustic 
gathering place for dirty faces and dull heads, that 
stood on a small conical knoll, some ten inches beyond 
the reach of the most extended shadow that the am- 
bitious Old Tunnel could throw by the aid of spire 
and setting sun. And he was an active and conse- 
quential personage among the worshipers in that en- 
deared fane. 

Master Turnbody possessed an active brain ; a brain 
extremely fertile of ideas, such as they were. But 
unfortunately there was a degree of discord among 
them that a colony of cats and dogs might emulate. 
In their disunion all strength of character was lost; 
for we suppose the converse of the popular maxim 
must be admitted, and that in disunion there is weak- 
ness. Any way, ho was by their means reduced to a 
simply eccentric character. 

He no doubt had sufficient book learning for his 
position, for he had gone up the ladder as far as the 
Latin rundle. He had a genius for poetry, and wrote 
out, in rhyme, some of the harder lessons, fancying 
that in that form they could be more easily learned 
and remembered. And no doubt he was right, for 
jingle is more attractive to people in general than 
solidity. But with his singularities were coupled some 
of the most excellent qualities that a teacher of youth 
can possess. He was pious, good-tempered and indus- 
trious. 

It is quite characteristic of schoolmasters to philoso- 
phise and theorise. And Mr. Turnbody was not sin- 
gular in this respect. Among other conceptions a little 
out of the common order were his theories regarding 
the lower animals. He believed that all animals had a 



320 NOTABLE THINGS. 

way of expressinf^ their sentiments, and that it was 
witliin the bounds of possibility, at least, for man to 
discover the means by which the thoughts, so to speak, 
of beasts, birds and fishes, could be ascertained. This 
is an interesting- conceit, well worthy of a Turnbody, 
and one that no reasoning can prove false. A man is 
always safe from exposure in whatever absurdity he 
supports, provided he has the sagacity to locate his 
entrenchments beyond the reach of human reason. 

Mr. Turnbody was much pleased by the conviction 
that he himself had grasped certain leading principles 
that lay at the foundation of this curious knowledge. 
And, acting upon this, he is represented to have 
really shown wonderful skill in judging of the desires 
and purposes of individuals of the lower races. He 
seems, certainly, to say the least, to have established 
an excellent understanding with some specimens, if it 
be true, as stated, that he was one afternoon seen 
going down the middle road of the Common, with a 
cow, an old ram, a dog, a goose, and an enormous rat, 
following close upon his heels, each heedless of the 
others, but all anxious to gain his attention, and, per- 
haps, as the poet says, to share the good man's smile. 

These views of Mr. Turnbody were brought forcibly 
to the mind of the writer, by a curious occurrence 
witnessed an hour or two before commencing this very 
page. And perhaps they would not have been alluded 
to at all, had it not been for the occurrence. A brief 
account of what we refer to may interest the reader. 

Geese have never been famed for their intellectual 
endowments, though that opportune and eloquent ex- 
pression of their rational fears, on a certain occasion, 
at Rome, might support some claim. But let the com- 
mon opinion go. This very morning, while leisurely 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 321 

pursuing our way across the open fields, our atten- 
tion was arrested by two large flocks of those feathered 
trumpeters, coming over the hills on their migratory 
journey southward. They appeared at points quite 
distant from each other. But both parties were belch- 
ing forth with unrestrained voice, as if in warlike defi- 
ance or important negotiation. In the rear of each 
flock, as is common in these flights, were a number of 
laggers ; and these evidently impeded the progress of 
the squadrons, which seemed anxious to press on, as a 
storm was vigorously pursuing. Whether these lag- 
gers were lame or lazy, it was not easy to determine ; 
nor was it of much consequence, as, according to the 
proverb. Providence provides for both. And besides, 
in this case, as in many others, lameness and laziness 
would be equally detrimental to the other party. Pre- 
sently the two flocks began to converge. And as they 
rapidly approached each other their vociferations be- 
came more and more alarming, till it seemed as if a 
most destructive collision were about to take place. 
They met. But no symptom of anger was manifested. 
After a little manoeuvring, the laggers of both flocks 
formed into a battalion by themselves, and took a more 
inland course, while the two large bodies separately 
bore away on their old courses, no longer impeded by 
those that had weighed upon their skirts. How Mr. 
Turnbody would have interpreted this management 
we cannot say ; but it seemed to us very much like a 
sagacious arrangement to get rid of dead weights in 
a way that would be effectual and at the same time 
not repugnant to tender consciences. And we are 
furthermore delighted to record the incident as sup- 
porting the comforting proverb just alluded to. 

Few things tended more to elevate Mr. Turnbody 
N* 21 



322 NOTABLE THINGS. 

in the estimation o(" the good people than his activity 
and usefuhiess in the sacred precincts of the Meeting 
House. If the minister were indisposed, he was at 
hand to read a chapter and expound, or make a prayer. 
And he usually took it upon himself to line the hymns 
and mark time ; which latter he did with a grace that 
all the attempts of Father Kemp fail to reach. He 
was always ready to assist the ladies, young and old, 
from their pillions, and to show strangers to seats. 
Indeed there was no useful work about the sanctuary 
that came amiss to his ready hand, from the pulpit exer- 
cises to the snuffing of the tallow candles that during 
the evening meetings flared and dispensed rivulets 
of grease over the tin candlesticks and thence upon 
the heads of the worshipers. On one occasion, how- 
ever, he came near becoming a martyr to bis officious- 
uess. 

The Old Tunnel was so constructed that the bell rope 
qame down in the centre of the middle aisle. And the 
bell ringer was of course one of the most coiispicuous 
objects. There he stood in the dignity of his great 
office, bowing to the measured strokes that called to- 
gether old and young, grave and gay. And as they 
filed by him to their seats, carefully did the fair ladies 
gather their robes around them and give ample berth 
to his rib-breaking elbows. 

Had the good dames of that day worn to meeting 
dresses as much extended as do the ladies of our time, 
the poor old sexton would have been sorely put to it 
for room. But they did not appear in the house of 
worship in full dress. They labored under the belief 
that He in whose special presence they gathered had 
no particular regard for fine dresses, and left it for 
modern worshipers to discover that He is pleased to 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 323 

assume the office of inspector of garments ; for it is 
not allowable to say that any visit the sanctuary to be 
seen of men. 

But to return to the occasion on which Mr. Turn- 
body met with the disaster that came so near extin- 
guishing him. 

One Saturday the sexton went out on a fishing ex- 
cursion, and by some mishap, chargeable to wind or 
tide, was unable to get back in season for his Sunday 
morning duties. The hour had nearly arrived for the 
commencement of the services, and the bell had not 
yet sent its solemn summons abroad. Many had as- 
sembled and were waiting in wonder at the silence 
that reigned in the belfry, Mr. Turnbody was there ; 
and after fidgeting about and several times going out to 
look up the street towards the sexton's house, he spat 
on his hands and boldly seized the rope, which, as just 
remarked, came down in the centre of the house, in 
view of the whole congregation. He gave one or 
two lusty tugs, and presently some glorious peals an- 
nounced to the world without that there was a new 
acquisition within. 

But Mr. Turnbody did not fully understand the art 
and mystery of scientific bell ringing, and had not 
been made aware of any danger. He neglected to let 
the rope properly slip, and before he realized any 
particular necessity for caution found himself half 
way up to the roof, still grasping the rope as tightly 
as if his life depended on the tenacity. He gave a 
terrific shriek. But in a moment, the reversal of the 
motion of the wheel brought him down to the floor 
again with such violence that it is astonishing that 
half the bones in his body were not broken. He lay 
gasping. Men and women rushed to his assistance. 



324 NOTABLE THINGS. 

He was presently restored to consciousness, and to 
the great relief of all found to be but little hurt. A 
vacation of two weeks was sufficient to restore him. 

We cannot help thinking that Mr. Turnbody's ascent 
afforded about as ludicrous a sight as was ever wit- 
nessed within the walls of the Old Tunnel. Up he 
went, like a fish fairly caught, his knees twitching 
towards his chin, and the broad tails of his light blue 
coat flaring out mischievously as if determined to 
bring into view sundry invidious rents in the unmen- 
tionable garment beneath, which was of brown velvet, 
and fitted so closely as to endanger the circulation. 
He did not, however, believe in what he termed the 
"devil drawn whimsey " of the circulation of the blood, 
which Harvey had many years before made known, 
and which he and a certain traveling doctor had dis- 
puted about, all the way, at the funeral of Obadiah 
Turner. 

At school, master Turnbody was fond of awarding to 
this and that pupil, imagined to possess a resemblance 
in character, the name of some personage of historical 
renown. And he was accustomed to frequently remind 
them of the virtues they should imitate and the vices 
they should shun, as developed in their prototypes. 
He had a Socrates, a Mark Anthony, and a Cromwell ; 
a Xantippe, a Cleopatra, and a Mary Stuart. And it 
would have surprised him, had he been permitted to 
live as long as they, to have seen how strangely, as 
trees, they departed from their supposed bent as twigs. 
He would have seen his Socrates in the stocks for steal- 
ing Mark Anthony's chickens. Cromwell he would have 
beheld a love-cracked pauper. In the slattern wife of 
a wood-chopper he would have discovered his Cleopa- 
tra. And as to his Xantippe, he would have found 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 325 

her a pious, and sympathising nurse of the sick, re- 
nowned for her patience and kindness. But notwith- 
standing all these, he was quite as good a prophet as 
people usually are who attempt to discover the adult 
in the child. And it should be remembered that in his 
day the glorious light of phrenology had not been shed 
abroad. 

At the time Mr. Turnbody taught here, and for moro 
than a hundred years afterward, the people spent mo- 
ney grudgingly for the outward appliances of educa- 
tion. The school-houses were mean and inconvenient; 
the benches rough and uncomfortable ; and too often 
the floors were damp and filthy. Brooms could not 
be afforded, though a couple of quarts of rum would 
have bought, of some strolling Indian, enough of those 
made of stripped birch, to serve for a whole year. 
Once or twice a montli, however, the scholars Avere 
despatched to the woods for hemlock boughs where- 
with to sweep. And these expeditions were occasions 
of rare fun to the boys, though tearing through the 
briars and shinning up the rough trunks were death to 
their lins;ey-woolseys. And when they marched home 
with their woodland spoils it surely appeared as if great 
Birnam wood had again started for Dunsinane, but mis- 
taking the road had arrived at Lynn. 

The venerable Ezekiel Oldpath was a teacher here 
for some years onward from 1691. His bald head was 
conspicuous every Sabbath, near the northwest corner 
of the Old Tunnel. He was well qualified for the 
duties of teacher, both by education and natural tem- 
per. And he had taught in Boston, at intervals, for 
some twenty five years, during the earlier part of his 
life. At other intervals he had been agent for fishing 



326 NOTABLE THINGS. 

companies, attended to surveying, acted as scrivener, 
and so forth. His first appearance in Lynn was in tlie 
capacity of surveyor. And he was so charmed with 
the place that he determined to take up his residence 
within her borders. 

Master Oldpath's sterling sense placed him above 
most of the prejudices and jealousies of the times, and 
bis urbanity and prudence had an excellent influence 
on the restless spirits around him. 

He was one of the most active and judicious in ope- 
rating against the hallucinations and villanies of the 
witchcraft eruption of 1692; and to his exertion, in a 
great degree is to be attributed the fact that it prevailed 
to a small extent within these precincts, while neigh- 
boring places were absolutely distracted. He warmly 
controverted the views of Chief Justice Stoughton 
in a correspondence with that dignitary. And in con- 
cert with the wise Saltonstall he rendered essential ser- 
vice in saving innocent lives. President Mather and 
his redoubtable son Cotton came out several times to 
confer with him and endeavor to induce him to look at 
the mysterious matters through their spectacles. But 
they found him as immovable as the everlasting rock 
under the lee of which his modest habitation nestled. 

There stood his little school-house, exposed to the 
rough kisses of the cutting wind as it swept down from 
the northern hills, forming a central point for the ed- 
dying snows to dance about. The shivering little 
ones came gathering from miles around, and eagerly 
snatching their motley caps from their heads, unveiled 
their purple faces to meet the ruddy glow upon the 
hearth. Then would the good man lay aside the wont- 
ed dignity and distance of the school-room, to assist in 
restoring the benumbed limbs, ere he called his little 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 327 

subjects to duty. And the duties of the day, in his 
school, always commenced with the Lord's Prayer, 
repeated in concert. Then followed the reading of 
the Litany, every pupil audibly joining in the respon- 
ses, or the Psalter, in its daily order. True, this did 
not well please some of the more rigid anti-churchmen. 
He was labored with on the subject, but declared 
that though himself no churchman, he yet would not 
dispense with those exercises so long as he taught; 
for he deemed their influence of more value to the 
young mind than all the other exercises put together. 
He never did yield, and on his death bed recommended 
a continuance of the custom. And we do not believe 
that the school would have been damaged had it been 
continued even to this day of worldly wisdom. 

Master Oldpath took great pains, while lecturing 
his pupils, to impress upon their minds such things 
as would prove most useful in life. He had a respect- 
able class in surveying, and on many a pleasant after- 
noon did he lead them forth, if not to show how fields 
M'ere won, to show how they were surveyed. But 
above all, he labored assiduously to instill into their 
minds the great principles of moral rectitude and living 
piety. 

As a naturalist. Master Oldpath was famed through- 
out the colony. In his surveying expeditions he had 
good opportunity to indulge in his loved studies and 
to collect specimens. And a capacious unfinished room 
in his house contained a really valuable museum. The 
great Linneeus was not then born. But Ezekiel was 
able, by his own experience and the assistance of a 
few others, to perfect a system of botanical classifica- 
tion, quite ingenious and easy of application. And it 
is a matter of much regret that the many useful facts 



328 NOTABLE THINGS. 

he collected regarding the natural history of this region 
have not been handed down to us through tiie medium 
of more perfect records. Printing was not so common 
and cheap then as it now is. The art preservative is a 
blessed art, though not very discriminating; for while 
it preserves one page of value, it preserves forty that 
had better pass into oblivion. 

It was always pleasing to Master Oldpath to have 
his neighbors and fellow-townsmen, as well as strangers 
from abroad, examine his collection. And many a plea- 
sant impromptu lecture did he give to the parties who 
took him by surprise as he sat in his curiosity room, 
arrayed in his calico gown, velvet slippers and little 
black skull-cap. And often of a moonlight evening has 
the timid knock of youth summoned him to the agree- 
able office of entertaining lovers who had strolled up 
the balmy lane perhaps with a bouquet or curious 
pebble, brought as a simple propitiatory offering; and 
his blessing was sure to go with them as they turned 
upon their homeward path unseen among the whisper- 
ing trees to kiss and talk of love. 

The brilliant skies and balmy breezes often called 
Mr. Oldpath forth upon long pleasure excursions to 
the forest or seashore, though he usually took his sur- 
veying implements with him, as if in compromise with 
a practical conscience. And he made many observa- 
tions and determined many facts, useful and curious. 
It may be mentioned that he appears to have been the 
first to remark that the gorgeous coloring of our 
forests in autumn is not produced by frosts, but by 
the ripening of the foliage. And it is remarkable that 
many, even at this day, remain ignorant of the fact. 
Observation shows that trees do not change color all 
at one time any more than fruits all ripen at one time. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 329 

The white birch and swamp maple, for instance, often 
put on their beautiful yellow and scarlet, in August ; 
and even, to a small extent, in a dry, Avarm season, as 
early as July. Irving, Bryant and others of the most 
charming American writers, would not have adopted 
the error and assisted so much to fix it in the popular 
mind had they been as observant of such things as 
Master Oldpath. 

Soon after the ripening of the foliage the heavy 
frosts come. These loosen the leaves and they soon 
fall. Then, if we have it at all, comes the Indian sum- 
mer. That lovely interval afforded a study of peculiar 
interest to Mr. Oldpath. It was as difficult for him 
to keep within doors during the half dozen days of its 
continuance, as for an astronomer to remain housed 
during an eclipse. He long endeavored to ascertain 
the natural causes of such a delectable elemental 
condition. But he was unsuccessful, and frankly ac- 
knowledged that the red man's explanation was as 
reasonable as any he could give ; namely, that it was a 
period when a breath from the hunting grounds of 
heaven was permitted to sweep down to earth. Nor 
has any more rational explanation been given, to this 
day. 

Master Oldpath died with the scholastic harness on. 
He was suddenly seized by the grip of the fell destroyer 
while on his way from school, of a summer noon, and 
after a painful struggle of forty hours yielded up his 
breath. His last flickering thought seemed to be of 
the precious little souls under his charge. And his 
last words were : " Come, come my children we must 
prepare to hasten home apace. How suddenly doth 
night come upon us. Let us pray." 

Mr. Shepard preached a long funeral discourse over 



330 KOTACLE THINGS. 

his remains, containino- many stately periods and much 
sound doctrine. His text was: I. Kings, iv. 33 : "And 
he spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Leba- 
non, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the 
wall ; he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creep- 
ing things, and of fishes." 

Many learned and good people from abroad came to 
his funeral. And the Old Tunnel bell never sounded 
in more mournful notes than while they were bearing 
him to his final resting place in the Old Burying 
Ground. 

It is refreshing to dwell on a character like that of 
Master Oldpath ; so unselfish, and so serene amid the 
ajritations and conflicts of the restless world. And 
from a walk like his most useful lessons may be drawn. 
We may perceive that better and surer paths to happi- 
ness exist than those which end in the vanity fair of 
wealth. The meanest creature of earth, air or sea, 
was an object of interest to him. The noble oak upon 
the hill top and the lowly fern in the vale afforded 
him hours of pleasant study. The modest violet and 
creeping moss which were heedlessly trodden under 
foot by other men were to him more beautiful than the 
most luxurious carpet of man's fashioning. With a holy 
satisfaction did he contemplate all the works of nature, 
discerning the hand of the great Original as well in 
the whirling thunder storm that ravished the land- 
scape as in the serenity of a summer twilight. 

It is unquestionably true that many of the teachers 
of the first sons and daughters of our favored land 
were profoundly learned. And it is also true that 
they kept constantly in view a more exalted object 
than is common with teachers at this day. In that 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 331 

less complicated condition of society comparatively 
little of the (liftnsive kind of education, if it may be so 
termed, could be brought into action. The ordinary 
business transactions were simple, and that active 
curiosity which now leads so many to endeavor to 
pry into the mysteries of eveiy conceivable depart- 
ment of knowledge, without any definite object in 
view, was not deemed so worthy of encouragement as 
efforts of a more practical nature. 

Many of the first teachers, as before remarked, were 
of the clergy. And no one requires to be informed of 
the fact that they were a learned race. A high toned 
classic coloring often pervaded their discourses ; and 
the flincied dignity imparted by the scholastic displays, 
in writing and in speech, would now appear as border- 
ing on the ludicrous. And the English hierarchy, 
being able to withstand their valorous assaults with 
the ponderous artillery of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, 
may well have continued to claim invulnerability. And 
again, being of the most rigid order, fhey naturally 
inclined to look anxiously to the spiritual condition of 
those under their charge. And this was sanctioned 
and urged by the universal temper of the community. 
So long as those elementary principles which would be 
required in the ordinary transactions of life were firmly 
fixed in the mind, mere intellectual attainment was 
regarded as of secondary importance. There were 
but few books and proportionately little book study. 
A comparatively large number, were, however, put to 
the study of Latin, and without the aid of English 
grammars, obtained a good knowledge of their own 
tongue, Latin was, at that period, an almost neces- 
sary stufly to all who would make any pretension to 
learning. Nut only were phrases in that language 



332 KOTABLE THINGS. 

common in books on almost every subject, and inter- 
spersed in the legal forms, but the bunduy sermons 
were enriched by them. 

Some are inclined to imagine, in view of the limited 
variety of school books then in use, that but little was 
taught. But the fact is that the accomplished and 
industrious teachers were a sort of embodiment of 
classic and scientific knowledge, and through the en- 
gaging and effective medium of familiar lectures and 
conversations, imparted, in history, geography, and the 
natural sciences, instruction to as great an extent as 
was demanded or deemed expedient. 

But, as remarked, the early teachers kept in view a 
more exalted object than is in our day required, ex- 
pected, or perhaps we may even say desired, of com- 
mon school teachers. It was with them but a small part 
of duty, to fit those under their charge, to be merely 
successful members of society ; to qualify them for the 
mere business of life, or to pass through life with the 
mere characteristics of intelligence. Their better ef- 
forts were directed to the nobler purpose of firmly 
planting in the virgin soil of the uncorrupted heart, a 
vigorous growth of those exalted virtues which would 
bring forth the fruits of sterling principle and unswerv- 
ing integrity ; so that when the youth went forth into 
the world, every act, whether in business, politics, or 
any other department of the social economy, might 
rest on the sanctified basis of truth and justice. And 
was it not this, that made the institutions they planted 
80 enduring? Was it not this that imparted to them 
that solid, immutable character which has enabled 
them to withstand all the conflicts that have from time 
to time agitated society, and which have turned other, 
and at times more prosperous institutions, upside down? 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 333 

And wliat was the reward claimed by those faithful 
old teachers for thus training the first cliiidren that 
made merry these streets ? The annual stipend of a 
few pounds currency or perhaps a few measures of 
grain or a few pounds of meat from each family. But 
could that have been called a reward? Most certainly 
not. It was but the means of sustaining life. Their 
reward was of a far more exalted and enduring kind. 

"We find the somewhat eccentric Doctor Jotham 
Tyndale a worshiper at the Old Tunnel during the 
last ten years of the seventeenth century. He sat 
near the centre of the house. 

In stature, Dr. Tyndale was singularly diminutive, 
being hardly five feet high, and by no means corpulent. 
And his physiognomy was such as a stranger would at 
once determine belonged to one remarkable for some- 
thing, though he might be puzzled to say what. His 
chin was bony and tapering, his nose long, sharp, and 
a little hooked. There was a redundancy of ivory in 
his mouth, and his lips were very accommodating for 
the display of the same. 

In personal descriptions it is always expected that 
the forehead shall come under notice, because it has 
been ascertained — by the gas light of phrenology, we 
believe — that the higher faculties reside there. But 
here we are at fault; for the Doctor's hair had such a 
propensity to retreat upward, and the plain from the 
brow to the crown was so regularly inclined, that it 
was impossible to determine where the frontal terri- 
tory ended and the summit level began. And besides, 
his hair was always strained back to such a degree 
that one would have supposed it difficult for him to 
shut his eyes, and there bound into a cue, by an eel 



334 NOTABLE THINGS. 

skin. And this cue was a distingnisliing feature, one 
in which he took an ahnost childish pride, and one 
which finally came near being the death of him; such 
a judgment often overtaking the worsln'per of an idol. 
The appendage projected almost horizontally and was 
knotted at the end in most picturesque style. 

We are aware that cues, wigs, hair powders, and so 
forth, were not much in vogue at that time, but there 
are always some whose genius travels ahead of their 
age. And Dr. Tyndale possessed a rampant genius. 
Such things, however, were known at that period. 
Hair powders were used in England a hundred years 
before, by the opera singers. And we read that wigs 
of all colors were in use in the good old days of Queen 
Bess. We also catch glimpses of cues all along from 
the period of the Reformation; to say nothing of the 
old painting in which St. Peter figures with one. Yet 
it appears that the greatest enormities of the kind did 
not have their turn till Queen Anne's time. 

Dr. Tj-ndale appeared a little vain in the matter of 
dress. He wore yellow breeches tied at the knees by 
tasty red ribbons, and a bob-tailed green coat, which 
he always kept buttoned so tightly that the loops broke 
out in rebellion against the strain put upon them. An 
enormous white collar fell over the green one of his 
coat, resembling an ancient lady's Vandyke. Long 
scarlet stockings and leather shoes, with the toes 
turned up like skate-irons, and kept well black-balled, 
adorned his nether extremities. And jauntily upon 
his head sat a round topped hat, with which the sport- 
ive winds were continually playing pranks. 

As to the parentage of Dr. Tyndale we are able to 
state very little. Whether he could trace his gene- 
alogy in a direct line to William Tyndale the celebrated 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 335 

reformer and martyr who bad the lionor of producing 
the first English version of the New Testament, we do 
not know, but presume he could ; for any one can 
trace his pedigree to just about the point he desires. 
The pretty family trees that we sometimes see mod- 
estly fruiting in parlors prove this. But we do not 
mean to insinuate that the Doctor ever undertook to 
so trace his lineage; probably he did not; for doctors, 
as all know, are remarkable for their modesty. 

Many people seem to think that all who go through 
the same course of study must turn out equal in scho- 
larship. And judging Dr. Tyndale by this rule he was 
very learned for he went through, at Harvard college, 
the same course with the most eminent men in the 
colony. But judging by a rule that takes capacity 
into account, we might be forced to a different conclu- 
sion regarding his accomplishments. We do not mean, 
however^ to intimate that he w^as not worthy of high 
respect; for though not among the most prominent in 
his profession, he was yet above the average. 

The Doctor was very active, traveling hither and 
thither on his errands of mercy with great rapidity, 
sometimes on horseback with saddle-bags of medicines, 
and sometimes on foot with a knapsack of the same 
strapped to his back. His practice was extensive, at 
least so far as territory was concerned, and various. 
He was, of course, both surgeon and physician. And 
he even turned his hand to farriery Avhen occasion re- 
quired, though in this latter branch he had so man}^ 
rivals among the farmers who were ambitious to be 
ranked as professional men, that he could not shine 
with any great brilliancy. 

Few of Dr. Tyndale's patients had reason to com- 
plain of his neglecting them. Indeed what physician 



336 NOTABLE THINGS. 

can be charged with neglecting patients; at least those 
of the paying class? Sympathy for those in affliction, 
if not a positive sense of duty, prompted him to more 
than ordinary care and attention. He had a feeling 
heart, soothing manners, and a high appreciation of 
fees. His medicines were prescribed in large quanti- 
ties, as was the custom of the times. And by his 
good nature and pleasant talkativeness, he did much 
to keep the spirits up while the drugs went down. 
He trotted the sick children on his knee, and told 
them pretty stories of good boys and girls who loved 
to take the sweet medicines that he brought. And 
the older folk gulped down rivulets of his nauseous 
concoctions, made palatable by an infusion of what 
is metaphorically a product of the good wife's leach 
tub. None had a happier way of flattering than he, 
and none had a higher appreciation of its effects. 

One of the most remarkable cures ever effected in 
the human system occurred in the practice of Dr. 
Tyndale ; and by omitting an account of it we should 
leave even this brief notice greatly defective. 

Aaron Rhodes lay very sick of a painful disease, the 
nature of which does not precisely appear, though 
from the accounts we judge it to have been some sort 
of a bronchial abscess. It had rapidly enlarged and 
there was imminent danger of suffocation. The Doc- 
tor perceived that unless the internal gathering were 
speedily broken death must ensue. But how to break 
it was a question that all his ingenuity could not solve. 
The crisis was fast approaching, and the worthy man 
was very greatly exercised not only in regard to his 
professional reputation, for it really seemed as if there 
were no imperative necessity for the man's dying, but 
also from grateful esteem for the patient, who had 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 337 

befriended him in various ways. He was constant in 
his attendance, and manifested his anxiety, now by 
gazing down the afflicted throat; now by walking the 
floor at a nervous pace, Avith his head doAvn and his 
cue pointing up and shivering under his agitation ; 
and then by pausing to rub and press the patient ex- 
ternally, in the neighborhood of the gathering. But 
all his efforts seemed incompetent to avert a fatal ter- 
mination. 

Late on a Sunday evening, we find the sick chamber 
presenting this tableau : The sufi'erer lies upon the 
bed, with an uneasy struggling for breath. The Doc- 
tor sits in an arm chair, before the fire, with his legs 
stretched out and afi'ectionately crossed. His beloved 
cue projects back, over the little table that stands 
behind his chair, with its array of medicine cups and 
phials forming a body-guard to the tallow candle, the 
radiance of which would be greatly augmented by the 
friendly offices of the snuffers that glisten in their little 
lackered tray upon the mantle. The prim nurse sits 
nodding on one side of the fire, and upon the other, 
curled on the cushion of the easy chair, reposes the 
gray house cat, occasionally arousing for a moment to 
gape and stretch and then returning to her sleep. 
Almost perfect silence reigns. There is no wind with- 
out, and the fire does not crackle, for the Rhodes fam- 
ily burn peat. The hard breathing of the patient 
alone is heard. The Doctor himself soon begins to 
feel drowsy and nod. And nod follows nod in accele- 
rated succession. Finally, there comes one backward 
bow, so forcible as to bob the end of the cue directly 
into the flame of the candle. And thereupon, horror 
and mystery, there comes such a terrific explosion as 
almost shakes his little head from his shoulders. The 
22 



338 NOTABLE THINGS. 

darling cue is blown all to pieces and sent flying in 
singed tufts into every corner of the room. 

Tiie Doctor bounded across the chamber with the 
agility of a shot kangaroo, his elbow dashing through 
the window and his head bending the metal sash. Then 
he skipped up and down, shrieking and with his hands 
working his head every way as if endeavoring to be 
sure that it were still in the place where it grew. The 
nurse and cat, by a process that neither of them at- 
tempted to explain found themselves in a safe position 
beneath the bed. 

But how fared the sick man? He had eminent cause 
to rejoice under the fulfillment of the good old apho- 
rism that every wind blows good to some one. How- 
shall we express our joy for him? When the strange 
explosion took place, he happened to be lying with his 
eyes fixed upon the fated cue as it curiously bobbed 
back and forth, seemingly at some tantalizing game 
with the candle. And it appeared to him, as he lay- 
there watching, so much as if the candle when it got 
a chance to retaliate for some teasing movement of 
the cue, had given a snap that resulted in more than 
it intended, that he could not restrain a burst of im- 
modei'ate laughter. And that laughter saved his life. 
And many a hearty laugh, before and since, has done 
as much good. It broke the abscess; and after a little 
strangling from the escaping contents, he was relieved 
and at once beyond danger. And he continued to 
moderately indulge in the healthful exercise till hi* 
complete recovery ; and indeed to the end of his life, 
whenever the scene of that night came to mind ; the 
Doctor himself not refusing occasionally to join in his- 
cachinnation, as they talked the matter over. These, 
occasions, however, were liable to end in sadness, for 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 339 

the Doctor's hand would instinctively stray to the 
barren waste where once flourished the object of his 
idolatry whose loss had been mourned over with a 
bitterness not exceeded in intensity by any dispensa- 
tion from his saddle-bags. 

But the cause of the destructive explosion was a 
profound and alarming mystery for some time. There 
seemed no possible Avay to account for it. If it should 
prove that the Doctor's head were something like a 
charged bomb-shell and liable to explode at any time, 
it would be dangerous to have him about. But still 
there was no authority for his restraint. People, how- 
ever, immediately beg-an to appear shy of meeting him, 
and some of his patients forthwith sent word that they 
felt so much' better that he need not come again till 
sent for. And the calls for his errands of mercy and 
profit became alarmingly infrequent. 

The extraordinary occurrence was of course soon 
known far and near. And it was interesting to listen 
to the man}^ theories that were propounded in elucida- 
tion. The one suggested by Mr. Shepard seemed the 
most scientific, proceeding on the supposition that 
thunder and lightning might exist in the human head, 
in a dormant condition. And indeed it must be a 
stupid head that has not some electricity in it. But 
people were not then so scientific as they now are, for 
Franklin was not born. Had they possessed the know- 
ledge that soon after electrified the world it is not 
unlikely that they would have insisted, for the security 
of human life, that Dr. Tyndale should wear a lightning 
rod down his back. 

But the mystery was finally solved. The Doctor 
and his good wife were one evening sitting at the 
supper table, partaking of their frugal meal and pleas- 



340 NOTABLE THINGS. 

antly talking over the events of the day. Presently 
something recalled with ppecial force to their minds 
that unexplained catastrophe the memory of which had 
continued to hang like a dead weight upon them. All 
of a sudden the Dame dropped her spoon, which was 
just then drawing near to her mouth, laden with lus- 
cious pan-pie. Her ej'es protruded, her countenance 
assumed a strange expression, and she began to strug- 
gle in the attempt to articulate something. The Doc- 
tor sprang towards her, thinking that she was choked. 
But she soon recovered herself and pushing him aside 
told him to sit down and she would unburden herself. 
The good man had before experienced what she was 
pleased to call unburdening herself and did not antici- 
pate much comfort. Nevertheless, he meekly seated 
himself with open ears. 

Dame Tj-ndale now began by asking the Doctor if 
he did not remember bidding her, while she was dress- 
ing his cue, on the fatal day, to give it a good powder- 
ing. He replied that he did so bid her, for he expected 
to go to Boston to a doctors' meeting. She then looked 
him straight in the eye for something like two min- 
utes. Her gaze was reciprocated. And it would havo 
rejoiced any philosopher to observe the dawn and radi- 
ation of intelligence as they appeared on those serene 
countenances, marking as they did, with great strength 
and beauty, the distinctions between man and the gra- 
ven image. The talismanic word powder had power 
to explode the whole mystery. 

The worthy Dame had never before that day pow. 
dered the Doctor's cue, and when called to the duty 
had no conception that the dredging-box instead of 
the powder-horn should be resorted to for material. 
In her simplicity she had managed to work into the 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 341 

cue such a quantity of gunpowder as would have 
probably blown his head to atoms had not a conside- 
rable portion worked itself out during the day. 

Through that comical agency, however, the cure of 
Mr. Rhodes was effected. And had Dr. Tyndale pos- 
sessed the sagacity of some of the profession, without 
their honesty, he would probably have taken advantage 
of the accident, and insisted that the whole was a plan 
of his own to effect the cure. In that case he might 
have been canonized for his wit if not for his skill 

Those accustomed to worship in our modern sanctu- 
aries, with richly carpeted floors and cushioned seats, 
can hardly form a just conception of the discomforts, 
as they would appear to be, to which the worshipers 
in the Old Tunnel were exposed. Bare floors below 
and bare rafters above met the gaze of those who 
assembled there. The wild winds of winter whistled 
and squealed at the rattling windows, and often suc- 
ceeded in the mischievous enterprise of powdering 
the worshipers' heads with snow. Within, there was 
no fire to set at naught their chilling effects ; and 
warm must have been the hearts that could keep beat- 
ing through the long drawn discourses. The heavy 
galleries hung gloomily upon three sides ; and the 
cheerful sun found it hard work to illuminate much of 
the hallowed space. 

Above the lofty pulpit hung the ponderous sound- 
ing board, capacious enough to concentrate the vocal 
eccentricities of the most airy rhetorician ; and on 
which, as Amy Martin declared fiom information de- 
rived from the old lame man who carried the book 
with blood-red leaves, the witches held an adjourned 
meeting during a dreadfully tempestuous night in the 



342 NOTABLE THINGS. 

ever memorable year 1692, they being driven from 
the swamp in which their meetings were usually held, 
by a great overflow of water. Considerable alarm was 
excited by this information, coming througl) so autlien- 
tic a channel. Diligent inquiry and search took place. 
But the most certain evidence of the sacrilege having 
been committed consisted in sundry small indentations 
apparently burned into the edge of the board. These 
were thought to have been made by the fingers of the 
witches as they were clambering up. But Mister 
Oldpath succeeded in convincing the most considerate 
that they were produced by the sexton, who the year 
before undertook to destroy a colony of wasps that 
had taken up their quarters in a crevice above, with a 
blazing pine knot attached to a pole ; through which 
cruel act he came near burning down the house itself. 
And by this incident we are reminded to present a 
few facts connected with the great Witchcraft outbreak. 
Take whatever view we may of the strange excite- 
ments of that memorable year — 1692 — they Ciinnot 
be regarded by the reflective mind in any other light 
than as extraordinary and eminently suggestive. 

Upon a gloomy Sunday afternoon in the year just 
named, the Old Tnnnel worshipers were meekly listen- 
ing to one of Mr. Sliepard's elaborate discourses, when, 
as he was just arriving at the " improvement," the 
whole congregation were startled by furious excla- 
mations from a girl named Nanny Sealand. 

"Whist! whist! whew!" she exclaimed, jumping 
upon the seat and throwing her arms about in a vio- 
lent manner; "Whist! dost not see upon the window 
by the pulpit the shadow of Goody Bassett, beckoning 
to Nabby Collins, in the corner there ? And dost not 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 343 

see the book she hath, with blood-red leaves and black 
boards?" 

At this, Nabby Collins, who was an ignorant, nerv- 
ous girl of some seventeen winters, sprang up, shak- 
ing and twitching as if an earthquake and a whirlwind 
were experimenting on her, both at the same time, 
and wildly snapped out: 

" Ay, ay, at the dogwood swamp it is ! There 's the 
meeting. You told me so before. 0, I '11 be there. 
Red bread to eat and red drink I Devil's sacrament ! 
I '11 be there, when the black dog comes to show the 
way. He '11 scratch at the back door and howl on the 
stepping-stone. 0, whist, whist, minister ! You 've 
said enow, and lost your text ! See there, see there ! 
a black cat sits on the beam above,, nursing a red- 
winged mouse. 0, stop, minister!" 

And by the time she had uttered her incoherent 
exclamations her excitement had become frightful, and 
she fell down in a spasm. Presently recovering, she 
trotted, on all fours, with great speed, toward the 
door. But those about her having by this time in 
some degree regained their self-possession, restrained 
her from making her way out. 

" Great God preserve us," ejaculated Mr. Shepard, 
" from witchcrafts and other of the Devil's doings ! 
It veril}' seemeth that the vitals of God's people here- 
about are straightway to be torn out by satanic claws !" 
And he uttered a heavy groan, piteously expressive of 
deep apprehension. 

Without the " improvement," the services were 
brought to a close. And most of the people lingered 
about the doors for some time, with gloomy counte- 
nances, discussing the prognostics of the approaching 
storm. But Master Oldpath was there and endeavore(? 



344 NOTABLE THINGS. 

his utmost to suggest to the minds of those about him 
such common sense views as might do something to- 
wards turning the tide of tiie excitement that lie knew 
must ensue. Perceiving Mr. SheparJ's great perplex- 
ity he urged him to at least do nothing to inci'ease the 
apprehension that the Devil was about to commence a 
desperate foray upon this happy Israeh " Fur," said 
he, "if these in trutli be the Devil's doings, God's 
people will best show themselves by not owning that 
he hath such power. If pious folk come to think that 
they may at any time be snatched fiom God's hand by 
the Devil, it might seem that the Devil hath the strong- 
est arm. But for my part, I do not believe that Satan 
hath much to do in these matters. They come by 
frenzy of mind and roguery," And the sensible old 
man said many things to the distressed crowd, calcu- 
lated to allay their fears. That very evening, too, he 
visited the afflicted girls and gave much wholesome 
advice to those who had them in charge. 

Perhaps a few of the older persons now living, may 
remember having in their boyhood seen, firmly nailed 
to the northwest corner-board of the Old Tunnel, as 
high up as the gallery window, a clumsy horseshoe. 
It was almost as conspicuous as is the revolutionary 
cannon ball that still so uniquely adorns the front of 
Brattle street meeting house in Boston. That horse- 
shoe was said to have been nailed there by the sex- 
ton — whether at the instance of the Avatchful Shep- 
ard it does not appear — some time during the week 
succeeding the events just detailed. And it remained 
for more than a hundred years. The reader cannot be 
ignorant of the fact that horseshoes were early dis- 
covered to possess the power of keeping witches and 
other evil spirits at bay. In this age of conceited wis- 



TEE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 345 

dom, however, they have rather fallen into disuse for 
that purpose. 

As uiay well be supposed, the excitement spread and 
things soon began to wear a threatening aspect. No 
time was to be lost in parleying, and Mr. Oldpath, with 
a couple of others of like way of thinking, formed 
themselves into a kind of examining and advisory com- 
mittee, assuming the duty of inquiring into alleged 
cases of witchcraft as they might occur, expressing 
opinions of them and giving advice. They had not, of 
course, any power or inclination to interfere with the 
jurisdiction of the courts, nor indeed to act in any 
manner on formal complaints. But by judicious man- 
agement in their circumscribed sphere, great good 
was accompHshed ; calamities and distresses of divers 
kinds were averted, and no doubt innocent lives saved. 

Some strange cases came before them. 

Jediah Breed, a drinking, but otherwise fair sort 
of a laboring man, stated that on the Friday evening 
before, lie was seated in Rachel Moulton's back room, 
about dusk: that he had been hard at work during the 
day, cutting and splitting wood and was now resting 
and waiting for his supper. While he was thus wait- 
ing, and Rachel was frying the meat, there came down 
the chimney what appeared to be a verj^ large squirrel, 
having a head like that of a monkey. The animal sat 
himself on the edge of the frying-pan, and seizing a 
piece of meat, began to eat it, apparently with the 
most ravenous appetite, regardless of its fiery heat or 
the flames around him. The astonished chopper very 
much wondered at what he saw, not only because of 
the animal's power to endure heat, but also because 
squirrels were never known to take such food. Ra- 
0* 



346 NOTABLE THINGS. 

chel took no notice of the intruder, though she stood 
by the fire. And upon his expressing astonishment at 
her blindness, she declared that there was nothing 
there and that no meat was missing; tiiat four pieces 
were put in, and four remained. 

Jeddy told the committee, when they came to exam- 
ine upon the point, that he greatly wondered at Ra- 
chel's denying that she saw the animal, for he was at 
that very moment before her eyes ; and he could, more- 
over, hear his teeth snap as he bit the meat. But he 
did not count the pieces remaining in the pan ; nor did 
he know how many were put in at first. 

He further stated that as Rachel was spreading the 
dislies on the table the animal leaped upon her shoulder, 
and he, being greatly terrified, seized a birch stick that 
lay at hand and endeavored to give the intruder a smart 
blow. But he was too quick for him and dodged he 
knew not whither. And he saw him no more. But 
Rachel was greatly offended, declaring that she saw 
no squirrel nor felt anything but the blow, which she 
deemed insulting, and such as none but a drunken 
man would inflict on a lone woman. It was not, how- 
ever, till they were seated at the table that the con- 
viction was forced upon him that Rachel was an enter- 
tainer of evil spirits. From the appearance of the 
upper portion of her dress he was convinced that the 
imp, having eaten his supper in the guise of a squirrel, 
had gone to rest in her bosom. 

The good sense of Mr. Oldpath and his associates 
at once discovered that the wonders described by 
the besotted wood-chopper originated in a sudden at- 
tack of what is now known as a merry sort of delirium 
tremens. He was closely questioned regarding his 
recent drinking habits and obliged to own up to much 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 347 

that he would rather have concealed. Finally, Mr. 
Oldpath turned upon him with such a lecture as he 
was very glad to hear the conclusion of, and ended 
by advising- him, with marked emphasis, to say no 
more about the affair, or he might get to the stocks 
for drunkenness and the whipping-post for assaulting 
Rachel. 

And he prudently took the advice. 

Ruth Chase, a young woman who lived with EH 
Chadwell, witnessed some occurrences that came near 
producing very great excitement. The committee 
called on her to learn her story, and found her quite 
ready to communicate the facts on which her dreadful 
suspicion rested ; which suspicion was that she had 
seen the veritable black man, the Devil himself. It 
was early on a Monda}^ morning. She had jumped 
from her bed and drawn aside the window curtain, to 
determine the aspect of the weather, as it was the 
family washing day. The first object that caught 
her attention was a tall, muscular black man — though 
when closely questioned she would not affirm that he 
was black, as it occasionally seemed as if he wore a 
short black veil — coming out of the woods at a quick 
pace. He had on a long gray jacket with huge but- 
tons, and nmple breeches Avith eel-skin knots, as they 
appeared to be, at the knees. On his head was a three- 
cornered hat. She could not distinguish his feet, but 
an hour or two after went out and examined the ground 
and could find nothing but cloven tracks. These, how- 
ever, she admitted, on a rigid cross-examination, might 
have been made by the cows as they came from pasture 
the night before, though they seemed more rounded 
than cow tracks. In his mouth was a long clay pipe, 



348 NOTABLE THINGS. 

from which ho now and then blew sparks, wliich flew 
about like little blue stars, convincing- her that there 
was brimstone in the atmosphere. He had a bundle 
under his arm, done up in a red handkerchief. And 
Irom the shape of the bundle she thoug-ht it was a big 
book — the book of witch records. She had heard 
that the witches held a meeting the night before, it 
being Sunday, in the North Swamp, and supposed he 
had been there with the records. He went up by 
Mr. Tarbox's barn and struck three blows on the wea- 
ther-board with his crooked walking stick. Presently 
Goodwife Tarbox came to the door, and they talked 
together for a few minutes. He then handed her 
something from the bundle, and disappeared. She 
verily believed that he gave her the book to sign, or 
some bread that was left at the witches' sacrament 
held in the swamp. In closing, Ruth reluctantly ad- 
mitted that she had a little grudge against Dame Tar- 
box on account of a difficulty regarding a clothes-line. 

During this recital, Mr, Oldpath himself seemed 
possessed in some unnatural way, insomuch that his 
associates began to fear that he was suddenly becoming 
a viciim of the black art. He jerked round, and eyed 
the narrator with a most comical scrutiny. Then his 
eyes glistened, and he seemed much put to it to restrain 
a violent explosion of some kind or other. 

But Ruth having ended, he sat quietly for a few 
moments as if ruminating on the remarkable affair. 
And then the explosion came, sure enough ; it was 
leriific ; but no damage was done as the element was 
laughter. The others, though they loved to see him 
in such a joyful exercise, could not join with him, for 
they did not know what he was laughing at. And 
they began to be more and more alarmed at the accu- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 349 

mulating evidence that he was bewitched or getting 
beside himself in some way. At length he gained 
power to vociferate : 

" Ruth Chase, if your eyes had been rightly open 
you would have seen no wonders. You ought to 
have known that it was me, yes, me, Ezekiel Oldpath, 
whom you took to be the Devil. Look, now, see if 
I may not pass current for a white man, and if my feet 
would make cloven tracks? look, look!" and up went 
an enormous hide-shodden foot to the table top. " On 
that morn I took my kine to pasture at an early hour, 
and did indulge myself with a pipe by the way. See- 
ing mushrooms plentiful I did gather some into my red 
handkerchief, and on my way home, spying Goodwife 
Tarbox in her doorway, gave her not only a pleasant 
morning salutation but some of the dainties. As to 
what you say about striking the barn I know nothing 
save that while near there I descried what I took to 
be a weazel and struck at him v/ith my walking staff. 
One of the flaps of my hat got loose two or three 
times and fell forward in a way somewhat detrimental 
to my eyes ; and you must have made the black veil 
out of that poor cloth." 

It is easy to understand what the conclusion of that 
examination must have been. 

Increase Carnes, a middle aged man who lived on 
the same street with Mr. Shepard — Petticoat Lane, as 
it was afterward called — and whose bushy head cer- 
tainly did not contain an unusually large amount of 
sense, was sorely vexed, on several occasions, by 
unseen assailants. He was present at the meeting 
house at the time Nanny Sealand made her strange 
demonstrations, and was observed to exhibit consid- 



350 NOTABLE THINGS. 

erable excltoment. He started up from his seat in the 
■western gallery, and after describing certain mystic 
figures, in the air, with his arms, violently thrust his 
hands into his pockets, and hastened out of meeting, 
grunting and groaning by the way. 

The particular transactions which he detailed to 
Mi-. Oldputh and his associates, took place at his 
shop. He was a shoemaker, and worked in a rough 
little structure that stood near the site of the present 
City Hall. On Tuesday evening he went to his work, 
after supper, as usual. It was very dark, and the sleet, 
driven by a northeast wind, was almost blinding. The 
first thing he did after entering the shop, was to grope 
round for his tinder-box and matches. And while do- 
ing so, he was several times startled by what he imag- 
ined to bo whisperings and suppressed laughter. And 
he thought his fingers were now and then snapped at 
by sharp teeth. They were also badly pricked, as if 
awls had been thrust into them ; and he showed sev- 
eral fresh wounds in confirmation of his statement. 

Having found his tinder-box, he was much put to it 
to strike a light, for the tinder had become damp ; 
whereat he much wondered, as it was carefully cov- 
ered. Plowever, he finally caught the fiintest spark, 
which he was leaning over and carefully nursing with 
his breath, when a leather scrap, coming with great 
force, hit the box and overturned the whole into the 
shop tub. He was terribly frightened; but being en- 
couraged by hearing the footsteps of some one passing 
the shop, and momentarily expecting a neighbor for a 
job of work which he had finished just before going to 
supper, he gathered courage to search for the tinder- 
box of a shopmate. This he found, and presently had 
his candle lighted, and a fire blazing in the little fire- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 351 

place in the corner. But his wood was green and he 
could not induce it long to lend its virtuous aid in 
cheering up the dirty domain. He punched the hissing 
sticks, laid up the brands and blew upon them as well 
as he could through his almost toothless gums. But 
all to little purpose. In ten minutes the last spark 
seceded and the brave little tallow-dip was all that 
remained to war against the cold and darkness. He 
placed it in a wooden socket, and b}' his crane-like 
fixture swung it out in front of his seat, into a posi- 
tion to shed most light upon his work. 

Having made these preparations, Games took off his 
jacket and sat down to work. He continued to hear 
occasional whispering and tittering, and began more 
and more to fear that some sort of witchcraft was 
brewing. Nevertheless, he determined to tough it 
out, at least till the expected neighbor called, for he 
had some pride in the matter, having been taunted 
as a coward. But he could not avoid peering about the 
shop, as well as he was able to by the aid of his dim 
light, as he now and then fancied that he heard rustling 
or squeaking noises. In the back part of the shop was 
a small space divided off by a barricade of fire-wood, 
a heap of scraps, and a couple of cider barrels. But 
he could not muster courage to venture an exploration 
in that suspicious territory. As he sat busily at work, 
however, his heart began gradually to revive. And 
hearing persons occasionally pass near the window, he 
finally gained such heart as to whistle a psalm tune 
and mentally bid defiance to the whole army of devils. 

How long he remained in this comfortable state, 
whistling and working, it did not appear, but all ef a 
sudden, a gust of wind, coming, as it appeared to him, 
from the roof, instantly extinguished his candle, and 



352 NOTABLE THINGS. 

left liim in total darkness. At tlie same time he heard 
a horrible scratchin*;- and scrambling about the cider 
barrels. And then he seemed verily to become the 
sport of a legion of merciless devils. The leather 
scraps flew about his head as if driven by a furious 
whirlwind, hitting him on every exposed part with a 
force that made him dance in agony. Then he was 
seized by the arras and shoulders and twitched about 
in a manner that almost forced his joints asunder, his 
unseen tormentors laughing all the while as if greatly 
enjoying the sport. He was so terrified tliat he had 
no power either to resist or make an outer}-, and had 
but slight expectation of surviving the assault. 

As a sort of closing operation, he was forced down 
again uponjiis seat, and there compelled to undergo 
a kind of rough shampooing. Paste and wax were 
worked into his hair, scraps crowded down his back, 
and, worst of all, dirty water from the shop tub was 
poured down his throat b)' the clam-shell full. There 
is, indeed, no knowing how the violence would have 
ended had not the expected neighbor arrived. The 
moment that the door latch was raised, his tormentors 
ceased their operations and disappeared. 

The neighbor fortunately had a lantern. Carnes was 
found in a deplorable condition. But he was not cut 
or bruised. His hair and beard, however, wore com- 
pletely matted with wax and paste. Under repeated 
assurances that he was not wounded, and had only, 
from appearances, been the victim of some of the 
younger devils who were out on a frolic, he revived, 
and was soon able to go home, under convoy. 

Early the next day, Carnes was for starting off in 
great Iiaste to make formal complaint to the court 
against a decrepit old woman living on Nahant street, 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 353 

called Patty Allen, as being the witch who sent the 
evil spirits upon him. She had from some cause be- 
come obnoxious to her neighbors, and was almost 
-friendless. Being of violent temper she was prodigal 
of threats, and during an altercation with Carnes, a 
day or two before, had warned him to look out for a 
shower of something, but of what, he could not under- 
stand, as she just then slammed the door in his face ; 
but he thought it might have been a shower of scraps. 
At all events, such a shower had come, and he natur- 
ally connected the threat with the event. 

Mr. Oldpath happened to fall in with Carnes just as 
he was starting on his errand to the judicial dignitaries, 
and was so struck by his appearance that he paused to 
ask what disaster he had met Avith. The poor fellow 
was bare-headed, though the morning was chilly, for 
he was afraid to put his hat on lest he should never 
get it off again ; and his countenance wore a most 
rueful expression. Mr. Oldpath listened to his story, 
and finally convinced him that the better Avay would 
be for the committee first to investigate the matter, as 
thereb}^ the witch'craft might perhaps the more surely 
be fixed upon the old woman. 

No time was lost in getting the committee together, 
and the examination was held in the shop where the 
dark doings took place. Gideon Spinney, an aged 
man who resided in the neighborhood, hearing of what 
was going on, hastened to the shop, and found the 
three Solomons in great perplexity. The testimony 
had all been given in, and they saw no rational meane 
by which to explain away the convictions of the recipi- 
ent of the supposed satanic favors. But Mr. Spin- 
ney, as soon as he had got breath and attended to 
his nose, suggested that he was able to state some 

23 



354 NOTABLE THINGS. 

things that might throw light on the affair, and wont 
on to say that the evening before, at about tiie time 
(y'arnes judged the assault to have taken place, he was 
passing along the road, and as he approached the shop 
saw a young rogue making his egress from the back 
window, followed by two others. Whether they ob- 
served him or not he was uncertain ; but they immedi- 
ately dodged over the stone wall. He was near to 
them at one time, but attempted no pursuit, knowing 
that they could easily outrun him. He however over- 
heard one of them say, " B}' Jericho, lia' n't we had fun 
with the mouldy old coward. Let him jaw my lame 
mammy agin and call her a witch. If he does, there 
will be another shower of scraps, like as not, and may- 
hap thunder too. He '11 have to comb his old pate and 
wash his face now, if so be 't his monthly scrubbin' 
time ha' n't come round. I hope, though, we ha' n't 
hurt his old carcase much." 

The ancient manuscript from which the foregoing is 
derived, is too much defaced at its conclusion to ad- 
mit of being deciphered. But it can easily be imag- 
ined how the case terminated. 

Mr. Old path and his associates continued on their 
way, examining into the alleged cases of witchcraft as 
they occurred in the neighborhood. And they found, 
at every step, so much that was explicable on natural 
principles, so much that was clearly the fruit of appre- 
hensive and strongly imaginative minds, and so much 
that was chargeable to downright roguery-, that they 
were luore and more encouraged to proceed. And to 
their judicious action is perhaps to be attributed the 
freedom of the place from the grosser features of the 
" lively demonstrations of hell," as Mather called them. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 355 

It is thought that Mr. Oldpath had great influence 
in opening the eyes of Judge Sewall, as he visited him 
several times; and on the occasion of the general 
fast, made memorable as that on which the Judge 
stood in penitential attitude before the congregation 
at the Old South meeting house in Boston, while bis 
expurgatory paper was read, no one pronounced a 
louder or more heart-felt amen than he. 

The Mathers, and Chief Justice Stoughton found in 
our worthy townsman a resolute defender of the un- 
fortunate, and soon learned the expediency of not 
unnecessarily coming in collision with him. But it 
would be unfair to assume that Mr. Oldpath was en- 
tirely exempt from the belief that such a thing as 
Witchcraft may have existed. That would be, as it 
were, to unchristianize him, considering the universal 
belief of the christian world at that period. Yet, 
whatever his belief may have been, it is certain that 
he was zealous in searching out the abominable cheats, 
and ceaseless in his efforts to allay the excitement. 
Nor would it be fair to assume that even a majority 
of the cases could be explained as easily as those we 
have given. Some seemed entirely inexplicable on 
any known principle. And it was a note-worthy re- 
mark of a late eminent jurist that had he been upon 
the bench he could not have avoided pressing a con- 
viction on the evidence presented in several cases. 

Many attempts have been made to designate a suffi- 
cient cause, aside from any thing supernatural, for this 
extraordinary outbreak, known, the world over, as the 
New England, or the Salem, "Witchcraft — the Witch- 
craft of 1G92. The peculiarly trying situation of the 
colonists, at the period immediately preceding, has 
been much dwelt upon, as having been influential in 



356 NOTABLE THINGS. 

preparing the public mind for such an excitement. 
That certainly was a most dark period in our history. 
The broad land was still, to a great extent, overshad- 
owed by the ancient forest. The Indians had been 
engaged in a desperate effort to rid the land of the pale 
faced intruders. And to their wily and ruthless war- 
fare had been added French bravery and skill. That 
dreadful conflict known as Philip's war, commenced in 
1675. The red men fought with a desperation that 
could only characterize the death struggles of a brave, 
proud nation ; a nation which indeed passed away 
over blood-stained snows and amid the glare of blazing 
habitations. Six hundred of the flower of the colonial 
soldiery fell ; six hundred dwellings were consumed. 
But the disasters of the " swamp fight," sealed the fate 
of the red men. There was no one left, M'orthy to 
bear the mantle of the heroic Philip. In 1690 the 
French and Indian war raged. And the ferocity of 
the leading parties was not mitigated b}' their mutual 
professions of being followers of the Prince of Peace. 
The political aff"airs of the colonists, too, had for a 
long time worn a gloomy aspect. The colonial char- 
ters were annulled in 1681. And in 1686, Sir Edmond 
Andros commenced his oppressive administration. 

They were indeed trying times. And the poor col- 
onists might almost have been justified in the invagina- 
tion, that having been so long exposed to the rough 
usages of men, Avithout being subdued, they were now 
to have some experience under the tender mercies of 
devils. But yet, viewing the matter in the serious 
light that it deserves, one would hardly think that 
political or warlike agitations had much to do with 
opening the way for such an excitement as Witchcraft; 
particularly as the occult shadow brooded over regions 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 357 

where such agitations were not known. It would? 
indeed, seem as if such disturbances in temporal affairs 
might have a tendency to divert the mind from those 
views of spiritual affairs that appear necessary to pro- 
duce such an excitement. Oar whole country is at this 
moment laboring under an agitation most terrific. The 
flag of secession is unfurled; the lurid clouds of civil 
war have burst; hundreds of thousands of those who 
one year since recognised each other as of the same 
happy brotherhood are now arrayed in opposing war- 
like ranks. A season of unspeakable peril and distress 
has suddenly overtaken the glorious Union formed un- 
der our common father, the sainted Washington. God 
alone knows wliat will follow this upheaving; but happy 
should we be if we could rationally fear no greater ca- 
lamities than those of 1692. We are reminded of our 
remark on page 121, and must say that the ship has 
reached the breakers rather sooner than anticipated. 

Does it not appear more likely that the " Delusion " 
had its origin in the favorite conceit of our ancestors 
that their shining piety had moved the evil one to 
make special efforts for their destruction? 

Some intelligent minds, however, will contend that 
the Witchcraft manifestations, call them ultramundane 
or not, were such manifestations as may take place as 
strictly in accordance with some law as any event In 
the natural world. The law may be past finding out, 
but our ignorance cannot prevent its operation. The 
earth, in its progress in space, may pass through a 
region of meteors, astonishing and alarming the inhab- 
itants. And so, they reason, may be the course in 
spiritual things; — at certain points spirits may be dis- 
cerned, and their influence felt ; and we may be called 
to experience many things, startling, wonderful and ap- 



358 NOTABLE THINGS. 

parently supernatural, but yet the results of immu- 
table hidden laws. 

When the Witchcraft spell broke, the minds of the 
people underwent a reaction quite as remarkable as 
any thing connected with the strange affair. It is a 
sad subject, but presents features worthy of the grave 
consideration of christian and philosopher. In almost 
every age there is an eruption that astonishes and 
terrifies the world. But in not many cases are we 
forced to turn to the supernatural in forming an esti- 
mate regarding them, for men's passions and evil ten- 
dencies are sufficient. The progress toward these 
eruptions may often be traced. Sometimes it is slow, 
almost imperceptible ; and sometimes it is like the 
raging of the prairie fire. 

Glance, for instance, at the infidelity of France; 
watch the working of the sweet poison thrown into 
the body politic in the first half of the eighteenth cen- 
tury ; see how like a subtile disease it fixes upon the 
vitals; how by cunning and varied appliances it ulti- 
mately reaches ever}'' class, circulates in every vein; 
and then, moulded by the ambitious for selfish and 
depraved ends, and urged on by calm, inflexible en- 
ergy, like that of a Buffon or a Condillac ; by allure- 
ments like those of a Rosseau or a Voltaire ; by daring, 
ferocious impiety like that of a Diderot, see it burst 
forth in such a wliirhvind as overwhelms with fierce 
destruction, peace on earth, trust and hope in heaven. 
Then were the sunny banks of the Loire made pestilent 
by the dissolving remains, and the waters made red 
and warm by the gushing blood of innocence. Then 
the ghosts of the betrayed and sacrificed wanderod 
among the smouldering ruins of fallen temples and 
altars, and wept for desecrated household fanes. And 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 359 

this was just one century after the distractions in New 
England. 

Was there not something quite as unaccountable and 
quite as horrible in the French Reign of Terror as in 
the New England Witchcraft? And are there not 
eminently useful lessons to be drawn from moral earth- 
quakes such as these ? By watching the gathering 
elements fearful dangers may often be averted. 

In the third range from the pulpit, in the Old Tun- 
nel, was the seat of the venerable Deacon Mudget. 
lie was always seasonably at his post, though he lived 
nearly two miles distant. It was said — and greatly 
to his praise — that he was never known to close his 
eyes during the services, however protracted or sopo- 
rific they might be. And he was noted for his deter- 
mined opposition to everything wearing the semblance 
of indecorum within the sacred precincts. Indeed he 
seems to have been a sort of high church Puritan. It 
is the excellent trait just alluded to that we wish to 
illustrate, and shall at once proceed to relate an occur- 
rence Avhich in its time made considerable stir. 

We have already had occasion in these pages to 
celebrate the proverbial peacefulness and good beha- 
vior of church choirs. But all rules admit of excep- 
tions. And it would not be remarkable if once in a 
century-or two, members of a choir should be betrayed 
into some slight exhibition of jealousy, ill-nature, or 
other small indiscretion. 

The choir at the Old Tunnel had unwarily slidden 
into the reprehensible practice of taking sweetmeats 
and fruit to meeting, Avherewith to regale themselves 
while resting from their arduous labors, secure, as 
they thought themselves to be, from the observation 



360 NOTABLE THINGS. 

of those below, behind the gallery breastwork. But 
Deacou Mudget was uoL unapprised oi" their wrong- 
doinsrs. And his massive mind was for one whole 
Saturday night, while watching with Aaron Rhodes, 
deeply exercised in devising means to remedy the evil. 
So lost was he, about midnight, in his reflections, that 
he stirred the sick man's dose with the snuffers instead 
of the spoon, and did not discover his error till the 
patient began to strangle with the greasy motes. 13 ut 
he finally hit upon a plan sure to attain his object. 

Near the meeting house was a tree of delicious 
pippins, just then in their prime, on which the mem- 
bers of the choir had not unfrequently committed 
depredations. And as the Deacon went to meeting, 
the next day, he just balanced his pocket with one or 
two of the apples — the great good to be accomplished 
probably in his mind outweighing the small sin of the 
appropriation. With the fruit in his pocket he entered 
the house and took his seat among the singers. They 
were astonished to see him there though he was 
known to be a good singer. He was a little eccentric, 
they were well aware, but none doubted that he had 
come among them for a good purpose. Soon after 
the sermon commenced, however, they were taken all 
aback on seeing him draw a pippin from his pocket, 
pare, and begin to cut it into small slices, now and 
then, with unflickering gravity, bestowing a morsel 
upon his own expectant palate. 

Presently he generously handed to all the others, 
pieces to satisfy their watering mouths. And there- 
upon every pair of jaws in the choir were in motion. 
But the first breath had hardly been drawn when it 
became difficult to draw another. The facial contor- 
tions on every side were extraordinary if not exactly 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 361' 

picturesque. The poor singers writhed and rocked 
from side to side, their mouths frothing und their eyes 
rolling in fine frenzy. Every one but tlie Deacon was 
evidently suffering some horrible agony. He, good 
man, sat cahn as a summer morning, champing hi.s pip- 
pin, with eyes reverently directed pulpitward. Soon, 
however, the agony of the choristers reached such an 
unendurable pitch that they simultaneously started 
from their seats, hawking, spitting, strangling, retch- 
ing, and, in more than one instance, even taking the 
step beyond. 

The minister stopped short, and the whole meeting 
was in an uproar. If the witchcraft excitement had 
not subsided long before this, they would at once 
have concluded that the Devil had concocted the mis- 
chief. Finally, things reached such a pass that the 
Deacon felt himself called upon to explain. He came 
to the front of the gallery and with a sort of fugitive 
gravity playing upon his countenance, went on to say 
that he had long mourned over the undevotional hab- 
its of the singers, and to the end that he might renew 
their sense of duty, had procured a quantity of dragon 
root, which ho had distributed among them leading 
tiiem to suppose that it was apple. And he hoped 
that the lesson they had received would have the de- 
sired effect. Probably the reader knows what dragon 
loot is. Dut if he does not, he may be informed that 
it is a root so intensely pungent, that, if gathered at 
a particular season and from a particular location, cay- 
enne pepper is more soothing to the palate. The 
worthy Deacon had, with monstrous cunning, made 
the distribution in such a sleight-of-hand way that no 
one suspected his pious fraud. 

The good man immediately left the company of tho 
P 



362 NOTABLE THINGS. 

singers, or even the sanctit}'- of the place might not 
have saved him from broken bone?. But tlie very 
ludicrousness of tlie thing liad a tendency to restore 
some of the sufferers to good Iiumor. 

The matter seemed to pas? off without such mani- 
festations of resentment as might natui-ally liave been 
expected. Nevertheless, it turned out that on a dark 
night, some time after, there was a great outcry in the 
road that passed by the house in which the leader of 
the choir lived. And by a strange coincidence, that 
very evening there happened to be assembled there 
all the female members of the choir; while, by another 
coincidence, quite as remarkable, all the male members 
happened to be absent. 

When the outcry took place, as if by a single im- 
pulse, all the girls rushed to the windows. And instead 
of manifesting terror, as w^omankind ordinarily would, 
at what was evidently a most riotous proceeding, they 
vigorously clapped their hands and actually screamed 
with laughter. 

The rioters had in their midst a venerable looking 
individual, mounted on a substantial cedar rail. Ho 
seemed very much frightened, expostulated, remon- 
strated and begged for quarter, in a voice greatly 
resembling that of Deacon Mudget. 

Among the first pews set up in the Old Tunnel — 
for they were not all set up at the same time — was 
that of Henry Jetson. It was a little west of the cen- 
tre of the house, well toward the pulpit, and quite 
convenient for his deaf mother. No pew was more 
constantly occupied or more attractive. It was hand- 
somely fitted up in the style of the times. But the 
chief attraction was Nora Humphrey, a ward of Mr. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 363 

Jetson. Her beautiful face and tasty attire drew the 
attention of many worshipers; for at that time, the 
devotions of some were liable to be diverted, as they 
even now are, from the Invisible to the visible, espe- 
cially wlien the latter appears in the shape of a beauti- 
ful woman. 

Nora was not a native of Lynn ; nor did she long 
reside here. Slie was from England ; but had spent 
some years, before coming here, with relatives in Bos- 
ton. She was of a good family and had been disci- 
plined in all that rendered a young lady in those times 
accomplished. And as she possessed a mind that 
readily accommodated itself to life's vicissitudes and 
sought for happiness in every position, with a deep 
love for the beautiful and romantic in nature, she 
found her situation here especially congenial. We 
well remember hearing a virtuous grandam speak of 
her grandmother's relating how the bright-eyed, laugh- 
ing girl, with rosy cheeks, and dark curling hair flow- 
ing from beneath her fashionably trimmed French 
bonnet, was accustomed to trip into the western door 
of the sacred edifice, by the side of the good Mr. 
Jetson. But we had always supposed that much fic- 
tion was woven with the traditions, till confirmation 
of their truth, in the main, was found among the old 
writings before alluded to, which furnish so much of 
the moi-e local portion of this history. 

It will not be wondered at that Nora soon possessed 
more than the friendship of youth of the other sex. 
Yes, it appears that in more than one bosom she had 
kindled a spark which a gracious smile would have 
roused to a flame. 

Among the most devoted of her admirers was Charles 
Wilson^ a youth of much promise. And he appeared 



364 NOTABLE THINGS. 

to stand foremost in lier regard. He was her compan- 
ion in the evening walk, her gallant at the social gath- 
ering. And as months passed without any occurrence 
to disturb their close intimacy, it was considered by 
the village gossips as settled that the day was not, 
distant when a union would take place. 

As things were thus proceeding, Lucy Wilson, a 
twin and very dear sister of Charles, upon a pleasant 
evening unexpectedly called on Nora. She found her 
seated alone, near an open window, absorbed in the 
perusal of a letter. 

Of the intervie^v between these two young ladies, 
which proved so sad a prelude, we have found an 
account embodied in a letter written by Lucy herself 
to a female friend who appears to have been visiting 
in a distant part of the colony. And from this letter 
we extract as follows : 

*' Presently, as Nora perceived me, she sprang from 
her seat, and in a right merry tone bade me welcome, 
exclaiming, in joyful words, that she had good news ; 
that the letter which she held in her hand had been 
brought bv the Indian Runner who received it at the 
ship which had tliat morning arrived at Boston. She 
said that it was from her betrothed, and urged her 
to prepai-e speedily to depart for Old England, for ho 
would pi'osently come to America, and return with 
her as hi^s l).-ido to settle on his Lincolnshire estates. 

" At this I was greatly astonislied and disturbed, 
never having heard that she even had a lover any 
where abroad. But recovering myself, and fancying 
that she might be only essaying a merry jest, I did 
assure her that thus jesting was not seemly, and wast 
little relished by brother Charles; for he had many 
times gravely chidden me for my foolish gayety with 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 365 

William Tarbell. But she, observing my concern, 
assured me tliat she spake but the plain truth ; that 
she indeed had been betrothed ever since she first 
came hither. 

"A sense of the great disappointment that I saw- 
was in stoie for my dear brother, falling heavily upon 
me, I replied, with emotion that I could not restrain, 
that if she indeed spake the truth, and were espoused 
to one away, her retrospect should be any thing but 
pleasant; for she had deceived my brother, deceived 
•me, deceived us all. 

"With sobs and strong protestations she declared 
her innocence of all intention to deceive. Thoughtless, 
she said she might have been, but not wicked. And 
she fell upon my bosom weeping as if her poor little 
heart would break. She begged that I would forgive 
her great error, which now arose like a dark mountain 
before her opening eyes. And she entreated me, in 
words bespeaking great agony, to intercede Avith 
Charles, that he also might forgive. And to God, she 
said, she would that night fervently pray for remis- 
sion. My heart was stirred with pity, notwithstanding 
her grievous wrong; and I endeavored to speak words 
of comfort. She now clearly saw her error, she said, 
though while the favored recipient of his courtesies 
she had been involved, as it were, in a pleasant mist 
that soothed her soul and veiled her eyes. I was, 
indeed, cut to the very heart, and could only withdraw 
in silence, bestowing my last kiss upon her fair fore- 
head. And on my way homeward I held sad commu- 
nion with my own heavy heart, seeking for the best 
means by which to make known to my dear brother 
the sorrowful news." 

Without making further extracts we may add that 



366 NOTABLE THINGS. 

the unpleasant facts soon became known to every 
village gossip. And the beautiful Nora was much 
censured. She, however, while suffering- nuiny painful 
hours, persisted in the declaration that she never in- 
tended to deceive. And no doubt it was so. Her 
ofFence proceeded from thoughtlessness. 

The Indian Runner who had brought the letter from 
the ship, seemed in some mysterious way to consider 
himself implicated in the affair. He had been much 
attached to the Jetson family, particularly to Nora, 
who had received from his hand many a nosegay of 
rare forest flowers, and given him some coveted return 
from her store of trinkets. But this occurrence seemed 
to make a strange impression on him. He made sev- 
eral visits to a young laborer in the service of Mr. 
Jetson, whom he in true Indian style designated as 
Pitchy Sam, and held serious talks with him, in the 
wood yard or corn field. At the close of the last 
interview, he exclaimed with an energy of voice un- 
common for an Indian: 

" Ugh, ugh ! Pitchy Sam ! Me say she be wicked I 
she ought to die ! " 

A short time passed, and the youth to whom Nora 
was affianced arrived in Boston. It was soon arranged 
that the nuptials should be celebrated in that town, 
and that the wedded pair should take passage in a 
vessel presently to sail on her return voyage. 

The day came that was to be the last of Nora's resi- 
dence in Lynn. The night came that was to be the 
last whose shades would darken ai'ound her pillow in 
her loved rural retreat. She had taken an affection- 
ate farewell of those friends who had for the last time 
come to pay their respects, and was now alone in her 
chamber. For one moment she buried her face in the 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 367 

vase of wild flowers upon her table, which had been 
tendered as the last gift of the Indian Runner, who 
had visited the house at nightfall. Then she knelt and 
offered up a fervent prayer, in which, we may be sure, 
the name of the heart-sticken Wilson was not forgotten. 
And then on her pillow she sought repose from her 
alternate feelings of happy anticipation of the future 
and involuntary pain for the past. 

The moining sun, whose first rays were wont to 
awaken Nora, fell unheeded by her on her couch. 
Amazed that with a long journey and a great event in 
prospect, she had not risen as early as her accustomed 
hour, her friends entered the chamber. A swollen 
and lifeless form was all that remained of the bright 
and beautiful one whom they had so much loved. On 
her bosom lay the hideous coils of a venomous reptile, 
his fangs still piercing her inanimate cheek. 

"She ought to die!" portentous words from Indian 
lips ! The last request which the Indian Runner made 
of Nora was that he might be pei'mitted, with his own 
hand, to place upon the table in her room the flowers 
he had brought, saying that with that delicate act a 
medicine man had connected a charm. Unsuspectingly, 
his request, though odd, was granted. 

The people of Lynn never saw him after that fatal 
night. 

The remains of Nora were deposited in the Old 
Burying Ground, not far from the southeasterl}^ cor- 
ner. There is no mark by which to distinguish the 
grave. The beautifully wrought stone, placed there 
by the sorrowing youth who had come to claim her as 
his bride, and which bore the single word ''' Nora," has 
long since disappeared ; neither is there any swell in 
the ground, for time levels all things. For many years 



368 NOTABLE THINGS. 

the summer verdure thereabout was trodden down, for 
it was a spot to which the village maid in her evening 
rambles would resort to drop a tear to the loved and 
beautiful; a tear to her whose verdant resting place 
has now been refreshed by the dews of more than a 
century and a half 

And a few paces southward from Nora's grave is 
the spot where was lain the weary head of Charles 
Wilson. The blighting of the affections of his warm 
heart, the clouding of his sunny hopes, soon brought 
him to a bed of sickness. And hardly had the white 
mantle of winter been spread upon her grave when ho 
was released fiom all his earthly sorrows and conflicts. 

The lesson involved in this brief relation should 
not be unheeded by the youth of either sex. The 
tendei" affections can seldom be trifled with in safety, 
notwithstanding all the scoffing and philosophizing of 
the cold of heart. 

Tf it be unpardonable cruelty in a young man, Avhen 
he becomes aware that the affections of a youthful 
being of the other sex, have, in the ever deepening 
ardor of the female temperament, been directed toward 
him as the object around which they would fondly 
entwine, feeling in his embrace a safeguard against the 
storms that sweep across the path of life — if it be 
unpardonable cruelty in him, we say, to encourage the 
more closely drawing of those tendrils, with the guilty 
design of rnthlessl}' sundering them, or with the per- 
haps equally reprehensible view to some undefinable 
present gratification — is it not also unpardonable cru- 
elty in a case where the sexes stand in a reversed 
position? 

Arc there frigid worldlings who would sneer at oc- 
currences like this, as if they resulted from some igno- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 369 

ble principle of our common nature? Go to, un- 
eancUfied ones! Are not you in love — some with 
sordid wealth, some with childish honors? And are 
your idols more worthy of true and holy love than the 
sentient and glowing images of your Maker? 

Near one of the windows on the south side of the 
Old Tunnel, sat Dame Ramsdell, the light of her mil- 
dewed and strangely furrowed countenance, always, 
excepting by fivor of a point blank front view, entirely 
hidden, if not literally under a bushel, certainly under 
a bonnet of such dimensions as to be quite competent 
to contain an equal measure. This bonnet was manu- 
factured by her own industrious hand from rushes 
gathered in the meadows. And she was otherwise 
attired in an ample dress of tow cloth, the manufacture 
of the same industrious hand. A capacious pocket 
dangled by her side, often crammed with sweetmeats 
for good children and herbs and ointments for sick 
men and women. She had a formidable staff, on which 
she relied for support in her Avalks, and as a weapon 
of offence in punching giggling girls who made them- 
selves merry over her infirmities and unfashionable 
appearance. 

This worthy dame became eminent among women, 
for divers reasons. First, she had been the smartest 
spinner and weaver in the place. Her old wheel 
whistled, night and day, and the amount of raw mate- 
rial that came in at its whistling and went out in the 
shape of cloth, might have put to blush a Rhode 
Island water mill. Second, she was greatly skilled in 
the use of herbs. Her capacious garret was a vast 
depository of spoils from the fields and woods, and 
her very person was redolent of herby perfumes. 
P» 24 



370 NOTABLE THINGS. 

Tliirfl, she was the mother of more children than any 
dame who had lived in tlie place from the beginning 
of the settlement. These she found useful as safety 
valves for a naturally warm temper, as models on 
which to display her manufactures, and as subjects 
on which to experiment with her herby concoctions. 

Again, she had bestowed on this appreciative com- 
munity the inestimable gift of Zephaniah Ramsdell, 
who, before his third decade was passed had grown to 
be the pride of men and pet of women. Even in his 
very early days Zephaniah made such an appearance 
as indicated that he possessed a rare genius. When 
he accompanied his mother to meeting he was dressed 
exactly like a very old man, having a broad brimmed 
hat, breeches, with eel-skin knots at the knees, and 
enormous shoe buckles. Upon his nose, for his eye- 
sight was a little imperfect, were mounted a pair of 
huge, round-glassed spectacles, which an ingenious 
neiglibor had manufactured for him, by setting a cou- 
ple of cheap burning-glasses in a leather frame, after 
gi"inding down their convexity and polishing them as 
well as he could. 

By the time Zephaniah was a dozen years old, his 
genius was so developed as to excite a strong interest 
in the observant Dr. Tyndale. Pie insisted that there 
should not be, in this case, another of those mournful 
wastes of gifts so common in the community: that the 
youth should be put to stiidy. And he offered his 
own services in directing the toddling feet toward that 
spiing of which the poet advised to drink deep or taste 
not. The lad was soon persuaded to graf)ple manfully 
with the terrors of the Latin grammar. And such suc- 
cess attended his struggles that he was speedily prepar- 
ed to knock with confidence for admission at the front 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 371 

door of blessed Harvard. He entered, and for some 
months sustained the virtuous pride of his mother by 
bis rapid progress. 

There are some things beside true love that never 
do run smooth ; and Zephaniah was destined to be- 
come practically acquainted with the fact before his 
second collegiate year closed. He was one day sternly 
called to account, by the venerable president, for hav- 
ing taken a neighboring damsel on a sleigh ride. Not 
being able to give such an excuse for his breach 
of a salutary regulation as the worthy functionary 
could appreciate, he was forthwith ordered to lay 
aside his loose gai'ments and prepare for a whipping 
such as would afford a fair offset for the enjoyment of 
his ride. Thus measured, he knew the punishment 
would be teiTible. But he submissively disrobed, and 
endured the flagellation till he began to fear that his 
wounds would get beyond the restorative power of 
even his mother's most choice ointment. He then 
ventured, in a modest wa}', to remonstrate against any 
further infliction. But his remonstrance was as little 
heeded as if it had been directed to the plaster bust 
that adorned the shelf above their heads. The blows 
continued to fall thick and heavy. And there is no 
knowing to what the zeal for discipline might have led 
had not a desperate blow from the sledge-like fist of 
the now enraged Zephaniah knocked the classic head 
of his superior through the window. 

This indignity could not be atoned for. Zephaniah 
was expelled in disgrace, and trudged home on a cold 
winter night with his back burdened by academic 
chattels and his heart burdened by regrets and em- 
bryo plans. He sat himself down again in his quiet 
home, and assisted his mother in her multifarious oc- 



372 NOTABLE THINGS. 

cupations; became a little misanthropic and dreamy; 
took long, solitary walks in the woods and on the sea- 
shore ; wrote poeti-y, of course; and, in short, pursued 
the same track that a genius usually does under such 
difficulties. We have come across a number of poetic 
scraps apparently from his pen ; and must say that 
in our poor judgment his proud mother was not far 
from right in her declaration that he was an " oncom- 
mon rhymer." We have a suspicion that the motto in 
our title-page was composed by him, as well as such 
of the other mottos as are in the same style. 

Dr. Tyndale's interest in Zephaniah continued. He 
was pleased to often have him at his house. And it 
was finally arranged that he shoukl enter as a student 
of medicine. 

Zephaniah made commendable progress in his studies 
and became more and more a favorite with his patron. 

One pleasant day a professional brother rode out 
from AVatertown, to visit the Doctor, and brought his 
daughter, a blooming lass, with him. Zephaniah was 
invited over to sup with the strangers. And who, of 
all people on earth, should those strangers turn out to 
be, but the very girl who was his companion on that 
unfortunate sleigh ride, and her father. The two 
young folk were soon engaged in animated conversa- 
tion and the tender hearted maiden gave all but tear- 
ful attention to the recital of the mishaps that had 
followed their contraband enjoyment. While express- 
ing many regrets for the suffering he had endured she 
took occasion also to express much admiration of 
liis bold spirit and heroic action in the dark hour of 
the flagellation. And in some mysterious way this 
interview proved initiatory to an intimacy that ocoa- 
&ionally drew him to her father's house. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 373 

Whether the cunning Dr. Tyndale had any hand in, 
managing the affair, we cannot ascertain ; but are able 
to add tliat Zephaniah and Mary were presently aflS- 
anced, and when he had concluded his studies, and 
Mary's father had completed arrangements for retiring 
from practice, they were married. Tlie happy bride- 
groom entered at once into an extensive practice, 
beside having every present need supplied from the 
ample means of his generous father-in-law. 

So, after all, the flagellation did not turn out to be 
so very disastrous an affair. 

And herein is presented another instance in proof 
of what has been so often said — that few can discover 
in the boy, what the man will be. Few, indeed, have 
the discernment of a Tyndale. Zephaniah himself 
could not have foreseen his good fortune, even by the 
aid of tliose unique spectacles that formed such a 
dignified addition to his youthful visage. 

It appears to have been rather a common thing, 
daring a long period, for individuals to sketch down 
the Sunday sermons, or portions of them, as they were 
delivered. An expert had little difficulty in doing 
thisj as the manner of delivery was usually very slow 
and the enunciation distinct. The manuscripts were 
then lent around among those who were too infirm or 
lazy to attend meeting, and thus became effective aids 
to the pulpit. Not that the preachers of those days 
did not have itching eyes to behold their brilliant 
thoughts in print — so different were they fiom the 
modest clerical brethren of this day — but printing 
was too expensive a luxury to be indulged in on any 
but extraordinary occasions. There were no parish 
or Sunday school libraries, and few books of religious 



374 NOTABLE THINGS. 

instruction, in circulation ; and tlie contents of those 
few were so familiar that these sermons possessed a 
deh'ghtful freshness. 

Most of the specimens that we have discovered, 
have, however, proved more or less defective. And 
some are so purely doctrinal as to be of compara- 
tively little interest. But from one, which we find in 
so neat and light a hand as to induce us to think it was 
written out by a female, perhaps after having- been 
taken down by some one else in rougher st>le, we 
must be allowed to make a few extracts, as exhibiting 
something of their manner of imparting ghostly in- 
struction, and also as affording aid to the reader in his 
pious reflections. We regret being unable to ascertain 
who preached this sermon. It certainly is not exactly 
in Mr. Shepard's vein, though it seems to have been 
delivered at the Old Tunnel during the early part of 
his pastorate. Joseph Whiting, a son of the beloved 
Samuel who so long ministered to the society, was 
settled as assistant to Mr. Shepard, some two years 
before the Old Tunnel was built, though the connection 
continued only a short time. And it seems to us 
that the style of this sermon much resembles his. But 
by whomsoever it was preached, few will deny the 
value of the godly hints that even these few extracts 
contain. 

It should not be forgotten, however, that a great 
many of the sermons of those times were in a style 
very different from this. A good deal of the doctrinal 
preaching was harsh and repulsive ; and the contro- 
versial, for the most part, exhibited a spirit very dif- 
ferent from what modern worshipers would call meek 
and gentle. With the single remark that, consideiing 
the ancient mode of delivery, the discourse would 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 375 

probably have occupied full an hour and a half, we 
proceed to the extracts : 

. . . . " Behold, how beautiful, in this delicious 
spring time, appear the blossoming trees. They stand 
forth arrayed in more than kingly robes. And great 
is the promise of a most generous bestowment of fruit 
in due season. But, alas, how often do the fairest 
promises fail. Yea, little indeed can we discern from 
the blossoming what the fruit will be. Without con- 
stant care and watchfulness, the insidious worm may 
early begin his deadly work. The fiery bliglit, the 
nipping frost, the parching drought, may come and 
blast the brightest hopes. And so is it with the fair 
promises of youth. Without constant care and watch- 
fulness, the world, the flesh, and the Devil, by snares, 
allurements, and damnable artifices, may corrupt and 
destroy all that is beautiful and innocent. Therefore 
do I fervently exhort all to watch and pra}'. Watch 
against the stratagems of the old enemy; pray for godly 
purpose and strength." 

. . . . " Ah, how many before me are wont to esteem 
themselves shining pitchers of silver in the tabernacle 
of the Lord, full of precious wine. But I declare unto 
you that in the sight of God ye are all lustreless pew- 
ter pots, battered and unseemly, full of unwholesome 
and bitter water." 

. . . . " Praise is very pleasant to the human ear, 
and multitudes are so greedy therefor that they will 
even bestow it on themselves without stint. But one 
is enlisted in a far less worthy service while prais- 
ing himself than while striving to do so well as to 



376 NOTABLE THINGS. 

command the praise of otliers. By riglitly directed 
efforts all may secure the sweet meed of praise ; but, 
alas, how many strive to magnify themselves in the 
e3'es of their fellow men by ways that proclaim that 
they would use virtue only as a stepping stone to the 
good graces of those about them, not loving its own 
precious self False ambition ; vain strife ! We should 
all do our best with the talents bestowed upon us. He 
who possesseth but few talents and diligently employ- 
eth them, is more worthy of praise than he who hath 
many talents and doth exercise them but in part, even 
though by that part he accomplisheth more than the 
other. Yea, I say unto you, one talent, rightly and 
diligently emplo^'ed, telleth more for the glory of its 
possessor than do ten talents for the sluggard. And 
then again of praise; ^vhat profiteth it if the whole 
world laud and magnify thine acts if they be not acts 
that thy heavenly father will approve ? " 

. ..." In religion, as in all things else, zeal may bo 
likened unto fire, blind and unknowing of itself If 
directed by a true love to God and man, and by well 
tempered judgment, it will lead to the holiest accom- 
plishments. But if not so directed, in fierce rage it 
will but consume and destroy." 

. ..." Go forth into the fields. And there, away 
from the angry strife and vain babblings of men, and 
amid the beautiful exhibitions of God's handiwork, 
meditate. Meditate upon thine own weakness and de- 
pendence ; upon the good providence of God, thy 
duty to thy fellow men and to thine own soul. Medi- 
tate aright, and let thy meditations rule thine acts. 
So shalt thou bring peace to thy soul, chasten thine 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 377 

aspirations, and make thyself of more devout, unselfish 
8'pirit. Ah, yes ! the balmy air will impart vigor to 
thy body, and the nobler determination strength to 
thy soul. Go forth, then, in the gray morn, the silent 
eve, and amid the glorious works of nature, meditate 
and er)joy 



,. )j 



. . . . " Christian, beware how thou enterest the 
boundlesss wilderness of the law, for therein grow 
many thorns and briars that plague and damnify. The 
very air is fidl of temptation, and few indeed can es- 
cape without having his christian garment torn and 
bedraggled. Just though thy cause may be, despe- 
rately uncertain is its end. Yea, one pound, safe in 
the pocket, is better than three in the law." 

. . . . " Examine thine own ways. Dost thou there- 
in find cause to despise thyself? If thou dost, then 
be assured that others will despise thee. But and if 
tliou wouldest stand well in the eves of others, take 
heed that thou doest nothing that seemeth wrong in 
thine own eyes." 

. . . . " What is more unseeml}' than the pretentious 
discourse of some even godly men. One sailh, I hold 
the true doctrine, come ye to my faith, or stumble in 
darkness. But how knoweth he that he is in the 
true faith? He diligently searcheth the scriptures, 
perchance ; but can he say that his poor, weak mind 
is sufficient to compass the whole meaning? He treat- 
eth the Word as if it were a thing of man's device, and 
not a thing standing distinct from man and proceeding 
from the Infinite. And should he not remember that 
his neighbor, haply as wise and prayerful as himself, 



378 NOTABLE THINGS. 

hath, by like dllij^ent search, come to a different stand? 
Ought he not, then, the rather, modestly to say, such 
or such seemeth to me the true doctrine? But and if 
he doth not even get his doctrine from his own search, 
but taketh that of the houseliold of faith in which he 
was nurtured, he but receiveth it at socoml hand; 
and if they that taught him err, where is his reme- 
dy? Alas, how often is God's holy word made fool- 
ishness by man's interpretation." 

Near the southern entrance of the Old Tunnel was 
the seat of Francis Reddan. What litlle hair he had 
was very white. He w.is also lame, and bHnd of one 
eye. As he came in, his broken jaw would work as if 
he fancied him-^elf delivering an exhortation, though 
not a sound issued fi'om his lips. But as all liad heard 
of the terrible conflicts that occasioned his infirmities, 
not a symptom of mirth agitated even the most thought- 
less breast. 

Mr. Reddan was pious, intelligent, and greatly re- 
spected for his unwavering neighborly-kindness. He 
was a native of England, and born in the neighborhood 
of the renowned Hampden. Breathing a free air, and 
associating with unsubdued spirits, he was, wliile still 
a mere boy, famous for his stern opposition to every 
thing that savored of tyranny. At an early age, he 
suddenly left his father's house, joined the parliamen- 
tary army, and soon gained from his discriminating 
commander such acknowledgments as made him known 
among the valiant hosts as a brave and trusty j'outh. 

At the battle of Worcester he received his first 
wound, which was very severe, and was the occasion 
of that erratic working of the jaw just alluded to. 
But this grievous experience by no means quenched 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 379 

his ardor for battling in the cause his conscience ap- 
proved. He continued to render good service to the 
Commonwealth till his bravery could no longer avaih 

After the Restoration, when so many who had been 
active in the cause of the Communwealth, emigrated 
to America, he came hither. He intended to have 
pitched liis tent farther south; and it was a disastrous 
event tliat brouglit him to Lynn. When the vessel 
in which he came over neared the land, they found 
themselves off the entrance of Massachusetts Bay. A 
violent storm arose, and it soon seemed as if the emi- 
grant-soldier, after having escaped so many perils by 
land, was at once to be destroyed by a peril of the 
sea. The vessel was driven furiously into and about 
the Biy, and finally stranded on Lynn Beach, which 
has since become extensively known as the scene of 
several of the most terrible shipwrecks that ever took 
place on the Atlantic coast. 

It was a dark and dreadful night of storm when the 
vessel was wrecked. The sea raged with such fury, 
and tlie cold was so intense, that it is wonderfid any 
soul on board survived. Only two, however, were 
lost. The otliers, by various means, reached the land, 
and were well cared for by the townsfolk. The bodies 
of the two who were drowned, were recovered, and 
buried from the meeting house, with all the solem- 
nities that could characterize the last rites over dear 
friends. 

Mr. Reddan was so much injured as to be compelled 
to remain housed for several weeks. And the kind- 
ness he experienced from those on whose hospitality 
he had been thus suddenly thrown, made such a fivor- 
able impression on him that immediately on his recov- 
ery he announced his determination to remain here. 



380 NOTABLE THINGS. 

He married Anne Jolinson, and settled on a small farm, 
near Saugus river. 

While Goff and Whalley, the regicides, ;\ere in the 
vicinity of Bustoii, Mr. Reddan is supposed to liave 
rendered them essential service by warning of ap- 
proaehing danger. And at the time Goff so mysteri- 
ously aj)pearod in Lynn, as related in onr sketch of 
Oliver Purchis, he had been on the alert, for several 
days. It is, moreover, believed tiiat the midnight 
flight of (he regicide from the house of Mr. Purchis 
was to the house of Mr. Reddan. 

The gi-eat King Philip war again aroused the mar- 
tial spirit of Mr. Reddan. And we find him in the 
field bearing himself with the same bravery- and expe- 
riencing the same rough fortune that characterized 
his earlier soldiership. He was at the massacre of 
Bloody Brook, in Deerfield, in September, 1675, hav- 
ing joined Lathrop's command. And he was one of 
the very few who escaped the disastrous Indian am- 
buscade. 

After figliting heroically, for some time, Mr. Reddan 
was borne down and trodden into the bog. Presently 
a ferocious enemy discovered him in his helpless con- 
dition, and proceeded to raise his head on a stump in 
preparation for the scalping-knife. The implement 
had already been drawn across the forehead, when a 
youthful fellow-soldier, perceiving his peril, sent a ball 
through tlie heart of the savage, who fell head fore- 
most into a muddy pool. 

Thus rescued, Mr. Reddan remained a while, gather- 
ing strength, till able to crawl to a place of safety. 
And before many days he found means to reach his 
home. But he was not restored sufficiently to take 
the field again during that war. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 381 

Let US now take a look into the Old Tunnel. It is 
a pleasant Sunday afternoon, a year or two after the 
erection of the honored edifice. There sits the worthy 
Mr. Reddan, with head erect, by no means ashamed of 
the scars that disfigure his countenance, his loose jaw 
laboring in the most grotesque manner, as his wander- 
ins; thoughts are called in, for the duties of the sacred 
place. 

And nestling close by his side, is his beloved and 
really beautiful daughter Cora. She is dressed in a 
pretty gown of English stuff", rather gaily trimmed, 
with a silk sash, knotted at the side. The dress fits 
ber graceRd person most charmingly, and altogether 
she presents a picture of rare loveliness. There she 
sits, with a quiet air, her serene blue eyes seldom 
roving from the godly teacher in the pulpit, excepting 
at short intervals to scan the scarred countenance of 
her revered parent. And at those affecting intervals 
such as sit near may often observe a tear course down 
her fair cheek, for she knows of what perilous events 
those scars are mementos. 

Mr. Reddan loved his fair Cora with the ardor of a 
widowed heart, for her mother had been taken away 
years before, and he seemed to liave little left beside 
her, for the affections of his declining 3-ears to cling 
around. And she was worthy of his love. ' They 
were alwa^'s at meeting together, and in their long 
walks home, through the quiet green lanes, he endea- 
vored to impress most fully upon her susceptible mind 
the great truths to which they had been listening. 
His long months of mourning had softened his heart 
and opened new channels of reflection. And he now 
felt the warmest sympathies and recognized the lofti- 
est duties of the Christian. He seemed to be enjoying 



382 NOTABLE THINGS. 

a pleasant rest, after his many years of toil and dan- 
ger. His means were now ample for his moderate 
wants, antl with a thankful heart he looked upon him- 
self as highly blessed. Enjoying, also, the esteem of 
his neighbors, and the consciousness of having per- 
fijrmed many worthy deeds, might he not feel at ease? 

But the scenes of life are constantly changing; and 
no sooner does one begin to congratulate himself on 
the prospect of repose than he is again upon the wing. 
The beautiful Cora, on a certain evening had spent an 
hour, in the best room, in company with her neighbor 
Richard Lewis. This mcieting was not unknown to 
her father, for from him she concealed nothing. And 
who could stand higher in his regard than Mr. Lewis? 
for it was his quick sight and ready arm that saved 
him from the ruthless scalping-knife on the bloody 
day at Deorfield. 

Presently Richard sought Mr. Reddan, and asked 
him in. Cora sat quietly at her knitting woik, as he 
entered. Yet, a close observer might have discovered 
that she breathed quicker, and that her cheeks were 
more glowing than usual. But Richard had faced too 
many perils to lose his self-possession on sucli an occa- 
sion, and witli an unfaltering voice asked the good 
father if Cora might be his bi-ide. 

'* I knew full well," he replied, with emotion, "that 
it would come to this at last. Well, well, Richard, she 
may be thine. I would not obstruct the things that 
be ordained, though nature will have it that I had far 
rather the scalping-knife should have done its deadly 
work than lose this sunbeam from my house." 

He then took their hands and affectionately pressed 
them together in his own, while his tears fell fast. 
Then he silently withdrew. And Richard and Cora 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 383 

etood some moments, as it were transfixed by their 
emotions, before they were enfolded in each other's 
arms. 

The betrothment of Cora and Ricliard had a strange 
effect on Mr. Reddan. The whole current of his mind 
seemed to change, and he began to lose all interest in 
the affairs of life. Even the religious meeting had less 
and less attraction for him. His former serenity was 
changed for a settled moodiness. And thus he con- 
tinued, till, upon a fair autumn day, he was found dead 
in the woods, with his hand still grasping the gun 
which had evidently been the instrument of his death. 
Ho was out hunting, and his death may have been 
the result of accident. But there were those who 
believed he had taken his own life. It is a harrowing 
thought. But if it were so, how few can comprehend 
the intensity of the affection he had for Cora; an 
affection which took captive reason itself and left hira 
the blind victim of a fearful impulse. 

One of the strangest scenes that ever happened at 
the Old Tunnel took place on a dark evening in that 
year so pregnant of mysteries, 1G92. It was a very 
uncomfortable time for those abroad. A high wind 
came down with a triumphant whistle from the north- 
east, the sleet was cutting, and the cold benumbing. 
Nevertheless, there was a numerous gathering, from 
all the region round about. They had assembled to 
hear the famous Cotton Mather discourse on the do- 
ings of the invisible tormentors who were then begin- 
ning their lively warfare against God's holy people. 

All sorts of vehicles were standing in the lee of the 
building, and the poor horses snorted and shook their 
heads, as if remonstrating against the cruelty of their 



."St KOTAUl K THIN.;;;. 

nv.\stovs in lonving tliom tlnis exposed. And upon tUo 
\vinihv;\id side, the >;nsts ilrove the luiil anvl Im^- ihops 
ft«:;;»inst the windews. with a fnrv th;\t indieated u 
dotonuinatien to trv the streni:::tli ot" the tliininutive 
disuuond p »nes, or i^ven, perhaps, to eonipass tho creat- 
or inisiehief of earrving away tho little lieUVv. and thus 
hwviui;- tho ediliee a noseless Tunnel. 

Within tlie sanetuarx . the tallow eandh\< tl.ired, as 
tho blast swept over thotn. and spitet'uUy dispensed 
their unetious droppings in a maimer indieatini;- that 
in that plaee at least there was nv> respeet tor persons; 
and ill their lUful radianee those solemn eountenanees 
looked almost >;])ost-like. 

Hu: notwithstandin;;- the divers petty annoyanees, 
those cood peoj'le listened eagerly to tho loarne^i ha- 
ra\»g'ue ot" that aeknowledged leader in t!ie bravest 
assaults on tho kinsidvMu t^fSataju 

The bold speaker had gone on triunipliantly tor 
some time, and sueooeded in working up tho foars 
«s well as tho pious zeal of his auditors to a wonderful 
pitch, when, all k>( w sudden, as tho gust blew open 
tho oastorn door, their oars were assailed by an aeeu- 
mulation of sue!\ unearthly sounds as they never heard 
before; and they absvdutely started from t!uMr seati^. 
It jioomod as if a prodigious band, eomposed of all tho 
high-keyevl ir.stvuments that had been invented sinco 
the world began, had begun to play, without any rt^ 
gard to tuno or time. The eonolusion that a legion 
of rojuorseloss devils had arrived, was adopted with 
one aeeord, and those worthies who would have gone 
forth unlline!>ing]y to moot any earthly foe, stood trom- 
bling with fright. And was thoro not reason for their 
approliensions — reason in tho facts that he who was 
then addressing tliem was tho most determined foo 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 385 

of all the (lai-lv powers, and that now, prohably, a des- 
perate attempt was to be made to extinguish him? 
The liorses neighed and twitched at their bridles, and 
a straying bull ran bellowing down the street as if the 
prime minister of evil himself were in pursuit. 

The invaders, whoever they were, seemed approach- 
ing; and after the first paroxysm of terror was over, 
a general rush was made to escape from the house, 
no one appearing to dream that within tliosc sacred 
walls they were most safe from all assailants from the 
netherworld. Pell-mell they rushed from the doors; 
and even the windows had to ^'ield to the eagerness 
of some. In an astonishingly short space the house 
was cleared. And it seemed as if some flew into the 
air and others sank into the earth, so quickly was the 
whole neighborhood evacuated. And there stood the 
Old Tunnel, solitary and alone, the winds whistling 
among the rafters and sporting with the feeble tallow- 
dips like cats playing with expiring mice. But the 
unearthly noises continued to distract the air. And 
in a short time another terror was added. Guns were 
heard, in quick succession. True, this gave the thing 
a little more of a natural and christian aspect; but 
when once safely housed, few thought of venturing 
abroad till morning should reveal the position of 
affairs. 

The next day surely did bring a revelation ; and a 
rather comical one it was. It came through Ephraim 
Rand and Obed Mansfield, two of the most alert sports- 
men in the place. They had a splendid lot of wild 
geese for sale. And the solution of the mystery made 
some of the good people hang their heads as low, in 
shame, as did the Windham folk on the occasion of the 
frog invasion. 

Q 25 



386 NOTABLE THINGS. 

The solution was simply this: An immense flock of 
wild geese had been overtaken by the sleety storm, 
which so obstructed their flight that they did not 
arrive here at the seashore till night had set in. The 
ice had so accumulated upon their wings that they 
saw the hazard of putting out over the sea. Being 
forced to alight, they seemed to think it as well to 
have a jolly time, and so began with exercising their 
voices. They had taken possession of a field in the 
vicinity of the meeting house, and while adjusting their 
plans for the night' seemed to grow more and more 
excited. Their unearthly trumpetings soon caught the 
practiced ears of Ephraim and Obed, who, seizing their 
guns, speedily made merchandize of a goodly number. 

We gather the following account of a most extraor- 
dinary occurrence, alleged to have taken place at the 
Old Tunnel, on a Sunday afternoon, in June, 1687, 
from some notes on the blank leaves of a manuscript 
sermon. 

There was a very promising and deeply pious young 
man in the town, named Daniel Graves. He was much 
respected, in particular, for the good influence he ex- 
ercised over the young men with whom he associated. 
His death took place in a very sudden and awful man- 
ner, in the early part of the month just named. Being 
at work in his father's field, when a violent shower 
came up, he sought shelter under a tree. But hardly 
had he reached the shelter when a terrific electrical 
discharge occurred, shattering the tree, and killing 
him instantly. This startling dispensation was the 
occasion of the preaching of the sermon from the 
blank leaves of which our account is derived. We pre- 
sume the discourse was by Mr. Shepard, though that 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 387 

fact does not distinctly appear. The funeral took 
place on a Fridaj^, and on the following Sunday a 
very large concourse gathered to hear the sermon. 
And all felt so great an interest in the deceased, and 
his mourning parents, for he was an only child, that 
they attended on the services with softened hearts, 
and minds open to receive the good influences that 
might arise from a recounting of his virtues. 

A long, solemn prayer had been made, the Scrip- 
tures read, and the last couplet of the hymn lined off. 
Then, just as the minister was making ready to rise 
from the bench in the pulpit, to name his text, before 
the astonished gaze of the whole congregation, the 
deceased young man appeared, standing erect in the 
pulpit. With a pale and serious countenance he care- 
fully surveyed the assembly. Then he took the Bible, 
opened it, and placed the mark against a particular 
text. Having done this, he again cast his eyes over the 
congregation, till he met the gaze of a blooming little 
girl of some twelve summers, the daughter of a neigh- 
boring farmer. It was her gentle hand that laid the 
flowers on his cofiin, on the day of his burial, and her 
gentle heart that almost broke when she saw the sods 
placed upon his grave. Bestowing an earnest and 
tender look upon her he slowly raised his hand, and in 
the act of beckoning, vanished away. 

The choir were paralized, and could not finish their 
strain. The young girl fainted, and others present 
were greatly moved. The minister, however, and one 
or two others, appear to have seen nothing of the 
apparition. And having seen nothing, the godly man 
was so amazed at the proceedings that he called 
loudly upon old Deacon Newhall, for an explanation. 
Many voices volunteered to give the desired informa- 



388 NOTABLE THINGS. 

tioiL And when it was given, he seemed at first 
inclined to doubt the good fjiith of their senses. But 
before such a cloud of witnesses, his incredulity gave 
way, and was succeeded by an astonishment that quite 
equalled theirs. 

After a few minutes of silence, they became suffi- 
ciently calm to allow of the services being proceeded 
with. On turning to the Bible, the minister found the 
mark at the very passage which he had chosen for his 
text, though he felt certain that he had not opened the 
book. It will not be wondered at that this occurrence 
produced a profound sensation. Various explanatory 
theories were proposed; but we do not learn that 
any particular one was fixed upon, in the popular 
mind, as sufficient. Of course, a great portion of the 
people could never be persuaded that it was not a 
genuine ultramundane appearance; an appearance full 
as inexplicable as that of the phantom ship at New 
Haven, which had created such a sensation throughout 
New England, many years before. And to the savans 
of this da}^, who so well understand the mysteries of 
atmospheric refraction, we imagine, it will furnish a 
much more inexplicable phenomenon. It is not in 
our power to furnish any explanation that would be 
more satisfactory than what would occur to the intel- 
ligent reader. We simply give what comes to us as 
fact, and cannot hold ourselves responsible for what 
conclusions it may lead to. 

But this narration would be incomplete did we omit to 
add a few words regarding the little maiden to whom 
we have already briefly alluded. She was, in very 
early childhood, much in the habit of running across 
the field to the house of Mr. Graves, where she was 
always welcome, to amuse herself in the garden or 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 389 

within doors. Daniel would meet her with a smile, 
and was ever ready to aid her in the pursuit of happi- 
ness, even through her own childish ways. But, above 
all, as soon as her opening mind had gathered sufficient 
strength, he loved to instill into it the most useful 
instruction. Often would he sit by her, on the green 
sward, and in a familiar way, without catechism or 
story book, lead her to a lively contemplation of the 
beautiful and pure. She became tenderly attached to 
him ; would often run to take his hand on the way to 
meeting ; and never seemed so happy as when nestling 
close beside him in the sanctuary. She was a rare 
little maid ; possessing extraordinary quickness of per- 
ception, and a fascination of manner, quite remarkable. 
We shall not attempt to describe, in detail, the effect 
of the spectral appearance upon her. The impression 
was deep, but not unpleasant. She loved to talk about 
it, and never seemed to doubt that the beckoning was 
intended to apprise her of an early death. But it 
created no fear; seeming only to inspire her with 
more and more zeal to profit by the good instruction 
she had received from the departed dear one. She 
often declared to her friends, with an assurance solemn 
and affecting, that she should soon follow him to a 
better land. And so it turned out. When the brown 
leaves of autumn began to fall, she was laid in her 
little churchyard bed, beside her beloved friend. 

Is it not pleasant and profitable to linger in these 
sacred precincts — to listen to the earnest voice and 
stately periods of the godly preacher — to scan the 
grave countenances of the old, the bright and health- 
ful faces of the young — to hearken to the prolonged 
strains of sacred song? But in this last named portion 



390 NOTABLE THINGS. 

of the service, to be sure, there was a little awkward- 
ness, arising from the necessity of lining off the words, 
in couplets. Yet the music was performed by voices 
as sweet as are ever now heard in any of the multi- 
tude of pretentious " churches " that cluster around 
the consecrated site on which for so many years the 
Old Tunnel stood, in solitary grandeur; and performed, 
too, in as exact con(;ord and as perfect time. AYhat if 
the unsanctified music of the organ never echoed with- 
in those walls? The worshipers there believed it just 
as well to employ their own voices in uttering praise 
as to use machinery. What if the fanciful tunes of 
modern days did not greet their ears? They weie 
content to march sedately along their heavenward 
way, to strains as measured as the ocean swell, instead 
of hopping and skipping along under the enchantments 
of ebon minstrelsy. 

We have a sort of fugitive hope that we may, at 
some future time, again visit this endeared shrine. 
And perhaps we may be left to resume the pen and 
bring before the reader certain instructive scenes and 
characters pertaining to later times. What a preg- 
nant history is embodied in the period stretching on 
from 1700 to 1800, and thence for another quarter of 
a centur}', to the time when the favored spot which 
had so long known the motherly structure, began to 
know it no more? But we would by no means be 
understood as promulgating a determination to inflict 
on the innocent and unsuspicious communit}' another 
volume, as such an inconsiderate course might induce 
some compassionate friend to try the restraining power 
of bonds. Good intentions, it is true, may mitigate 
the gravity of an offence. But it is difficult to over- 
look some follies. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 391 

And we must withdraw from those hallowed courts 
wherein so many devout souls were strengthened and 
sustained by the spiritual bread and wine ; those hal- 
lowed courts wherein, for generation after generation, 
gathered maturity as manly and true, youth as beauti- 
ful and pure, as ever bowed down in the most gorgeous 
temple on earth. 

And where are all those who went up thither during 
the period of which we speak? The old, have for scores 
of years lain beneath the sod. The young men and 
maidens, loved, wedded, became parents, grew gray, 
and departed in the great procession. The infants, 
who irreverently screamed as the baptismal water was 
sprinkled upon them, also became old men and women 
and passed away. The consecrated structure itself 
became hoary with age, shattered and unfashionable, 
and long since disappeared. 

We have said that the Old Tunnel was, for genera- 
tions, the gathering place of the most unalloyed of 
puritanical stamp. And we need not repeat that it 
is with unfeigned diffidence that we speak of their 
characteristics and opinions and of the position they 
chose to occupy. 

It is difficult for a writer to treat to any extent of 
the Old Settlers without sometimes appearing to be 
inconsistent with himself. The difficulty is in the sub- 
ject. There is so much to praise, and intimately con- 
nected with it so much of at least a questionable 
cliaracter, that the reader cannot be expected at all 
times fully to distinguish the stand point fi'om which a 
given view may have been taken. 

All know how easy it is to find fault, and how prone 
most of us are to magnify the failings rather than the 



392 NOTABLE THINGS. 

virtues of others. Indeed, there seems to be much 
less capacity required in distinguishing evil than good. 
And where we find twenty who can at once discern 
every blemish in another, we do not find three M'ho 
can as readily perceive the good points. A readiness 
to judge of others does not involve a presumption of 
superiority, as one may be vastly inferior to another 
and yet entertain a very just concejotion of him. And 
besides, every man has some point in which he is supe- 
rior to other men. 

In speaking of the early settlers, no one will deny 
that they possessed characteristics as cold and cheer- 
less as the northeast wind that howled over their 
granite hills. But they also possessed characteristics 
bright and beautiful as the sunshine upon the blooming 
hills. The very earliest of the Puritan settlers in New 
England, with exceptions, were more liberal in their 
views than those of the succeeding generation. The 
first, were reared in England, many of them in the 
bosom of the establislied church, and by association 
with minds of different orders and discipline, naturally 
had many of their sterner points polished down ; whilo 
those borft and educated here, had little opportunity 
for circulating with those of other views, and naturally 
inclined tenaciously to their training. 

It was an anomalous age that gave birth to the colo- 
nization of New England. The history of the world 
presents no other point like it. The elements which 
ultimately formed into those, systems of polity which 
in our day shed such lustre upon the name of England, 
upon our own nation, upon every community of the 
same lineage, were still in their incipient stage of 
action, though long before had the premonitory pulsa- 
tions been felt. The weighty pall of ignorance, super- 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 393 

stition and servility, which had spread over the island 
realm from the early feudal days, had become gradually 
illuminated by the progress of a reformed religion and 
the gushing out of a flood of light through the art 
of printing. The popular masses were not now identi- 
fied with the clods of the earth; the lordly path was 
not hedged with bowed vassals, A more commanding 
but still not clearly defined conception of individual 
worth and responsibility, of true liberty, was acting 
like leaven and working the mass into that state where 
some master hand could mold it to the loftiest pur- 
poses. 

But no age is without some traits of greatness and 
goodness, for man at no time and in no place is entirely 
devoid of the sacred principles on which they rest. 
There was greatness in the feudal times. Some lead- 
ing principles that marked the castellated grandeur of 
that period have come down like stalking giants to us, 
leaving their footprints on every intervening age, and 
commanding the reverence of the wise and good in the 
most refined period that the world has seen. 

The Elizabethan was an age in travail with great 
events, and itself one of undefinable greatness ; an age 
of extremes ; as it were, of noonday and midnight ; 
with no softening of dawn or twilight. There was a 
keen perception of the rights of man, of the value of 
the human soul ; and a vigorous determination to 
trample on those rights, to enslave that soul. It was 
an age of bigotry and blood; of high conception and 
chivalric deed. It was the age in which Puritanism 
began its work. 

No mirror, as we have before remarked, can more 
faithfully delineate the character of a people than their 
laws. Laws are the offspring of circumstances, and 



394 NOTABLE THINGS. 

through them the genius, spirit and condition of a 
nation are manifested. And maay of the lofty princi- 
ples recognised in the jurisprudence of that age will 
hold sway so long as law is required to regulate the 
conduct of men. Take them from our own worthily 
extolled web of justice, and some of the brightest 
threads will be gone. 

The swaddling-clothes of Puritanism were of black. 
The fiery eyeballs of persecution glared upon the in- 
fant's smileless countenance. And pitfalls and sharp 
rocks were in the path of the tottering feet. The 
reformers were at first sneeringly called Puritans, 
because they were striving to purify the English 
church of certain rites and dogmas, un>!criptural, as 
they to them appeared, which were of papal parentage 
and which Elizabeth had retained probably from the 
servile desire to avoid a rancorous opposition from the 
many powerful Catholics still in her dominions. The 
bosom of the church soon became too thorn}'' a pillow 
for their repose; for whatever sins that church may 
have to repent of, the petting of recreant children is 
surely not one of them. 

Reforms are usually better than reformers ; and if 
we could only have the former without the latter the 
world would be all the better for it. Reformers are 
apt to press hotly and uncompromisingly towards an 
end, regardless of the damage that may be done col- 
laterally. The Puritans afford no exception ; at least 
in marked instances. They adhered to their sj'stem, 
rough-hewn and forbidding in many of its features, 
with a tenacity strangely unyielding and a zeal not 
always generous, not always enlightened or discreet. 
Nor were they backward, as opportunity offered, in 
carrying the war into the enemy's territory. Their 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 395 

influence began to be felt, their inroads to be feared. 
Theories new and of overwliehiiing moment began to 
agitate the non-hereditary ranks. And the ruling pow- 
ers, clerical and lay, had certain fearful glimpses for- 
ward to a time when the swelling surges might in one 
general destruction involve the great ecclesiastic and 
regal fabrics. 

Sincerity and zeal are not proof of justice and truth, 
though often worthy of respect. Martyrdom itself is 
not evidence of merit in the cause for which it is suf- 
fered. But whatever may be our views, or whatever 
may have been theirs, on the great matter of christian 
truth and man's duty, we cannot recur to the trials 
and sacrifices, the perseverance and strong faith of the 
New England fathers, without sentiments of high re- 
spect, of reverence, of awe. And some examples of 
such exalted character present themselves, as make us 
proud to tread the earth they trod. 

Behold the godly Eliot. See him take his dark way 
into the wilderness, to seek out and gather together 
the straying red men that he may break to them the 
bread of life. For many days together we see him on 
his lonely way among the snows of winter, hungry and 
chilled, at night seeking the shelter of some hollow 
tree or overhanging rock, and wringing the water 
from his garments lest through the cold, dark hours 
they freeze upon his limbs. And when the inhospita- 
ble chiefs bid him quit their domains, he boldly de- 
clares to them that he is on his Master's business — a 
Master who is mightier than they — and will not desist. 
I will not leave you, he says ; I will pray for you ; I 
will preach to you ; I w^ill convert you. He kept his 
word. He suffered, wept and wrestled for them. He 
gave them the word of life in their own tongue. He 



396 NOTABLE THINGS. 

persevered, iind won their respect, tlielr confidence and 
love. And there rose up a brawny phahinx, the breath 
of whose grateful praise will play upon his brow in the 
■upper Paradise, sweetly as their own beloved south 
wind plays upon the weary hunter's brow. 

Who does not follow with reverential steps the 
course of Roger Williams, whose history embodies 
such a commentary on the contrarieties of puritan 
character. See him take his devious way into the 
country of the Narragansetts, beyond the colonial 
jurisdiction, banished from those still dear compan- 
ions whose hearts he had often cheered in their labors 
and trials; from those firesides where childhood had 
rejoiced in his smiles, where age had been made glad 
by his heavenly love and sympathy. Banished — by 
Avhom, and for what? By his own compeers, by those 
with whom and for whom he had labored and suffered, 
because, conscience-urged, he had disseminated views 
of God's truth and man's duty, lofty indeed, but differ- 
ing from theirs. And see the great work that he per- 
formed in the savage country to which he bent his 
steps. From the little band that followed, and the 
awe-struck natives, he formed a church. And God's 
praise never ascended in more acceptable strains than 
were thence borne upward by the wintry wind. And 
then was reared in that inhospitable wilderness, a po- 
litical fabric, based on far broader conceptions of human 
liberty and right, than had vivified other portions of 
this wakening land. 

Who, without a thrill, can contemplate the character 
and course of Hugh Peters — a character and course 
full of incongruities, yet noble and commanding. See 
him, in youthful vigor, moving by his fervid eloquence 
audiences of thousands of the denizens of London; 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. 397 

then stealtliily following the fleeing pilgrims to Hol- 
land, cheering them by his counsels, aiding them by 
his means. 

Pass over a brief space, and behold him on the mar- 
gin of Wenham Pond, addressing the assembled chil- 
dren of the shadowy land. There stands he in the 
full strength of manhood, upon the forest studded 
declivity, the beautiful lake stretching out before him, 
rejoicing in the summer sunlight, and bearing upon its 
unruffled bosom the fairy-like Indian barks. The gray 
old oak and flaunting pine lave their roots in the reno- 
vating waters, and the unscared birds gambol among 
the foliage. And who are they, surrounding the pale 
brother from the far-off land of the rising sun, and 
listening to his story of wonders. They are a band 
of strayed brothers. The strong armed forest father 
is there ; the 3'oung hunter from the chase ; the war- 
rior from the battle ground. And there the white 
eagle plume waves over the dusky brow of the forest 
maid. 

And again, behold him in the little rustic sanctuary 
of the Third Plantation, by his tempestuous eloquence 
arousing the hearts of the desponding settlers. 

See him again in Old England, pleading Avith zeal 
ardent and unquenchable for the rights of the suffering 
colonists and making his influence felt at the very 
heart of the nation. Behold him a master spirit riding 
on the stormy waves of the Commonwealth, exempli- 
fying again, in his own course, some of the contrarie- 
ties of the age ; taking the field with -the parliamentary 
hosts; praying ardently and fighting valiantly under 
the same banner. " Verily," says Cromwell, " I think 
he that prays best wifl fight best." An expressive 
commentary on the spirit of the age. 



398 NOTABLE THINGS. 

Where slinll we look again for liim? On the sledge, 
seated on his own coffin, in the mournful procession, 
approaching the fatal block, to meet his destiny as a 
regicide ; and to meet it, too, with the resignation and 
nerve of exalted christian heroism. 

And, lastly, see his blood-smeared and ghastly head 
with sightless eyes yawning from a parapet of London 
Bridge, the object of scorn and indignity to the rude 
multitude. 

The singularly dark views of human nature taken 
by many of the old clergy were perhaps to some ex- 
tent engendered by the spirit of the times and the 
cloudy circumstances by which they were so frequent- 
ly surrounded. Often did they seem to labor to render 
the Christian's path thorny, his race melancholy. Their 
minds were deeply exercised on the great and glorious 
truths of God's word, but the dark side was kept in 
view. They appeared not to realise that with justice 
and dread, God himself had mingled mercy and love. 
They pondered on the terrors and pains of hell, rather 
than the joys and bliss of heaven. The rocky cliffs 
that frowned above the surges that lashed these wild 
shores, and the hills that towered above the shadowy 
plains, were so many Sinais, from which were con- 
stantly issuing the lightnings of Jehovah's wrath, the 
thunders of his law. In cold and gloomy strains their 
hallelujahs reverberated among the dim vales, and 
their austere bearing and harsh speech were fitted 
rather to chill than cheer the warm of heart. 

Yet it was not so with all. There were many free 
souls glowing in the warm atmosphere of the brighter 
promises; joyous souls, quickened by the sweet inspira- 
tions of mercy and love ; true christian souls, shedding 
all around the most blessed influences of our holy faith. 



THE OLD TUNNEL MEETING HOUSE. ' 399 

There are many still backward in awarding the 
praise justly due to the early settlers. They look at 
isolated facts and blemishes, and from them argue 
that no real or at least intended good could have pro- 
ceeded from such people. And when the undeniable 
and substantial blessings are forced into recognition, 
they turn to discover their origin elsewhere. 

Many enlightened minds, who have little sympathy 
with the dark and cold features of the old theology, 
believing that something brighter and more heart- 
attracting would have accomplished still more, are yet 
ready to do reverence to those Avorthy fathers for the 
great benefits that they undeniably did secure for all 
generations that were to succeed them on this soil. 

The early settlers so intimately blended the secular 
with the ecclesiastical character, that we are, without 
doubt, constantly liable to mistake the motive or prin- 
ciple from which this or that result flowed. A com- 
munity may possess vast political sagacity and yet 
cling to a very poor religious faith; or it may possess 
the loftiest conceptions of christian truth, and yet act 
upon false principles of worldly wisdom. And when 
they are endowed in a large measure with both worldly 
wisdom and christian grace, it is not easy to analyze 
their economy. 

This intermingling of the secular with the ecclesias- 
tical is shown in the fact to which we have before 
alluded, that no one was eligible to office unless he 
were a regular church member. This may be viewed 
by some as savoring of the darkness from which they 
had professedly just fled. All history testifies that 
in a union of church and state, pure religion is most 
liable to suffer. And hence any tendency to such 
union is worthy of being guarded against. In this en- 



400 



NOTABLE THINGS. 



lightened age and country, llo^veve^, there is proba- 
bly little real danger, though the cry of wolt" must 
needs at all times be more or less distinctly heard. 
But the object of the requisition alluded to admits of 
more than one explanation. Perhaps they could devise 
no better way by which to keep the churches full. And 
we cannot divest ourselves of the conviction that if at 
this day it should be determined that none but church 
members could be office holders, there would be such 
a rush into the sacred folds as no revival since the 
great day of Pentecost has produced. 




Pulpit Rock. Nahant. Page 105. 




THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 
Pages 401 to 500. 



THE 
ANCHOR T^VERIST. 

" The antient worthies long met here, 

at close of winter's day, 
With muggs and pypes and honest cheer, 

to pass the houre away." 

The first edition of "Lin" appeared in 1862, and 
embraced just 400 pages. And now, in presenting this 
new edition, enlarged by the pages which follow, it may 
not be improper for the author to remark that while he 
had abundant reason to be gratified with the kind re- 
ception of the former edition by indulgent readers and 
a hospitable press — one of the most flattering expres- 
sions, by the way, coming from the lips of an aged 
Quaker preacher, who, taking him warmly by the hand, 
exclaimed, " I must tell thee that I 've both laughed and 
cried over thy book" — he was, nevertheless, led to fear 
that the scope and purpose were not in all cases fully 
understood. 

By a strict adherence to barren facts in the history 
of a people, much of the true spirit may remain unde- 
veloped. Traditions and inferential elucidations often 
form a most valuable backing for the lYiirror that is to 
reflect a given period ; and those may not find place in 
a stately history. In these additional pages — which 
it will be observed are marked by a slightly different 
style of type — as well as in the preceding, some of 
them may be found ; so that, while it is not claimed that 

(401) 26 



402 NOTABLE THINGS. 

direct authority can be referred to for every statement 
it is confidently claimed that the whole is as truly 
illustrative of the People and their Doings in those good 
old times, of their walks and their ways, as if every 
page were disfigured by reference to authorities. And 
by the same token, while the scenes are laid in a some- 
what circumscribed vicinage, though one of the most 
picturesque and diversified in all New England, it is 
yet true that most extensive fields of historic interest 
are held in survey. 

But the middle of a book being hardly the place for 
a preface, we will no longer loiter on our way to " the 
shrine our fathers loved," — the good old Anchor Tavern. 

Among the earliest institutions established by the 
first settlers of New England were houses of entertain- 
ment ; coeval indeed were they with the churches. The 
accommodation of travellers was of course the great 
purpose, but it was not that alone. In the old country 
they had been accustomed to the ale-house, where 
" nut-brown draughts " were dispensed, and where the 
village rustics assembled to gossip, to argue and discuss 
if not to engage in less innocent diversions. What 
wonder, then, that the settlers should, by force of habit, 
if nothing else, have felt the need of something of the 
kind. It was before the era of newspapers ; and re- 
ports of weighty occurrences and tales of wonder must 
be orally published. There was, however, in the more 
legitimate way, to wit, the accommodation of travellers, 
a real necessity for houses of entertainment of some 
sort in the fact that the settlements for the most part 
were widely asunder and land travel obstructed and 
insecure. We of this day of turnpikes and rail-roads 
can hardly realize the difficulties of crossing streams, 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 4O3 

rounding rocky hills and penetrating tangled swamps. 
But that these " howses of intertainement," as time sped 
on and population increased, in many instances degen- 
erated into nuisances where drinking and lewdness pre- 
vailed, seems too true, from the numerous restraining 
acts passed by the Court, and the severe penalties 
imposed. It is curious to observe, in passing, that in 
our early days, there was no fixed penalty for many 
offences, but the Court arbitrarily awarded, on convic- 
tion, such punishment as the case in hand seemed to 
demand. The culprit had no means for calculating 
beforehand the extent of his penalty, or even its nature. 

The old Anchor, it is a pleasure to record, main- 
tained its integrity and enjoyed a high reputation for 
more than a century and a half The name, however, 
was once or twice changed, as the times required some 
new expression of the landlord's prejudice or political 
sympathy. 

The Anchor Tavern — or the "Blew Ankor," — 
as the original sign proclaimed, was conspicuously 
situated on a grassy knoll a furlong or so westward 
from the bright little river of Saugus, on the road from 
Boston to Salem, and about midway between the two 
settlements. There did its unique sign creak a wel- 
come to the wayfarer from its airy perch upon the 
knotty post that stood in front of the modest edifice. 

The location of this widely celebrated hostelry was 
airy and romantic in the extreme. A few rods eastward 
flowed the eccentric river, with lofty ridges of evergreen 
forest gradually rising on either side, and at intervals 
disclosing jagged crowns of porphyry. Upon the south 
a broad belt of level marsh stretched toward the ocean, 
with a few clusters of trees, resembling dark islands in 
a waveless sea of green. Beyond lay the great ocean, 



404 NOTABLE THINGS. 

calm and beautiful while the winds forbore their teasing 
but raging and roaring when the wild blast descended. 
Winding by the foot of the hills was the broad but 
rough road, along which, on either hand, of a winter 
night, the Anchor threw its ruddy beams to guide the 
weary traveller to its hospitable portals. 

Modern inventions and improvements hav'e made sad 
havoc with many old institutions, putting to flight 
romance and sentiment and defacing fondly cherished 
pictures of the past. One may well exclaim, alas for 
the dear old country inn, now no more. Rail-roads, ye 
have much to answer for ! 

Well, there stood the Anchor, on its commanding 
knoll, flanked by half a score of ancient forest trees,, 
heroically breasting the hot rays of summer and the 
frigid blasts of winter. As it caught the first morning 
beams it would look complacently forth upon the col- 
umns of smoke that straggled up here and there among 
the trees, marking the nestling places of the sturdy 
settlers, and seemingly rejoicing in the very loneliness 
of the prospect. 

The edifice was of plain wood, reared on a rubble- 
stone basement, and innocent alike of pride and paint. 
A rude bench, flanking the door, on either hand, and 
intended, under favor of genial weather, to supply a 
seat for the village statesman or magistrate, but more 
often occupied by the village lounger, the tired wayfarer, 
the sleeping dog or strutting rooster, was a conspicuous 
adjunct. Within, the tapestry that adorned the walls 
was dingy, misspelled papers — if there was any such 
thing as misspelling in those days — giving all manner 
of information, and proclaiming all manner of wants. 
But nowhere throughout the whole line of Plantations 
could a tankard of better flip or a more savory bite 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 405 

for the hungry traveller be found. And once within 
its jolly precincts the sojourner seemed safe from all 
discomforts of the road ; though possibly deeming him- 
self but questionably guarded from molestation by old 
bruin, who, stationed at the sign-post, kept a vigilant 
eye on all who approached the circle which his linked 
attachment permitted him to traverse. His woodland 
majesty evidently derived the greater pleasure in endea- 
voring to draw within his line of walk the straying 
swine and poultry ; but yet, having much time on his 
hands hardly anything came amiss for profit or amuse- 
ment ; and he seemed to take a childish pride in exhib- 
iting his long claws and sharp teeth, especially to 
strangers. 

Much of the romance of the early times of the settle- 
ment clusters around the Anchor, and many things 
could be related which at this day would gain little 
credence, so extraordinary were they and so unlike any 
occurrences of our time. It might indeed be said that 
its most enviable reputation did not begin to wane till 
the Turnpike between Salem and Boston was opened, 
in 1803, and so shamelessly diverted the travel from its 
vicinage. 

The ghost of the departed Anchor, however, if gifted 
with human sensibilities, may have had some satisfac- 
tion in seeing the prosperity of the Turnpike, in its 
turn, circumvented by the Rail-road. 

A full history of this long-distinguished " travellers' 
home " — for in truth it was famous through a period 
of a hundred and seventy years — with sketches of the 
different landlords and of the many notable transactions 
beneath its roof — would form a volume of exceeding 
interest, and grandly elucidate important passages in 
colonial and provincial history. Here the highest dig- 



406 NOTABLE THINGS. 

nitaries have paused in their eastward journeyings, and 
here have been entertained squads, yea, regiments of 
soldiery. Here also have assembled the village states- 
men and orators to discuss their rights and wrongs, as 
well as the humbler throng to gossip and dispute ; to 
say nothing of the merry parties of youth and beauty 
who gathered for the lively dance and midnight cheer. 

Of Joseph Armitage, the first landlord, who opened 
the establishment in or about the year 1643, something 
will appear as we proceed. He was among the early 
settlers of the Plantation, and remained an enterprising 
and hard-working villager till the infirmities of age bore 
him down. By trade he was a tailor, but like most 
of the pioneer planters found it necessary to apply him- 
self to various pursuits. On the whole, however, he 
does not seem to have met with success commensurate 
to his industry, and passed the most of his active life 
in depressed circumstances. 

The Court files show that in 1669 he petitioned for 
the payment of a number of small demands for the 
entertainment of colonial dignitaries, which had been 
standing many years. Both Governor Endicott and 
Governor Bradstreet left the Anchor without paying 
their reckoning ; perhaps, in the expectation that the 
demands would be sent to the public auditor or trea- 
surer. The quaint petition of Mr. Armitage runs thus : 

To the Honered Court now sitting at Sallem : The Humble petition 
of Joseph Armitage Humbly Sheweth that in the time that I kept Ordi- 
nary ther was sum expences at my Hows by some of the Honored magis- 
trates & Depetys of this County as apears by ther bills charged oupon 
Auditor Generall, which I neuer Receaued. Therfor your Humbell 
petticioner doth humbly request this Court that they would giue me an 
Order to the County Treasurer for my pay & so your pour petitioner 
will ever pray for your prosperity. 

Joseph Armitage. 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 40/ 

In answer to the petition the two governors draw 
orders for the payment of the scores, which were mostly 
for " bear and cacks," [beer and cakes,] " vitalls, beear 
& logen," " beare & wyne att sevrall times," and such 
like entertainment for themselves and their travelling 
attendants. Mr. Bradstreet, referring to a charge under 
date May 15, 1649, answers, "more for my man & 
horse, as hee returned home the last yeare when I was a 
Commissioner, he being deteyned a sabboath day, 6s. 8d." 

There is some evidence that Mr Armitage was not 
always at peace with his neighbors ; but the fault may 
have been theirs. He was once fined for not informing 
against a drunken person found in his company ; and 
the Court at one time refused to allow him to " draw 
wine," or in other words to sell spirits. He died in 
1680 at the ripe age of eighty years. The account filed 
by the administrator of his estate, gives a glimpse 
of one or two interesting customs of the time. This 
item, for instance, occurs : " For coffin, vaile, and dig- 
ging the grave, 14s. In wine and Sider, for his buriall, 
jCz." His estate was appraised at £6. 2. 6. 

Captain Thomas Marshall, to whom occasional 
allusion will be made as we proceed, was landlord of 
the Anchor from about the middle of century 1600 till 
1689. He had been a soldier under Cromwell, and of 
that fact was very proud and boastful, often entertaining 
his patiently-listening guests with stirring accounts of 
his valor and achievements. He really was well-in- 
formed on matters concerning the civil wars, and had a 
happy faculty of exalting his own exploits. John Dun- 
ton, the London bookseller who travelled here in 1686 
remarks in his journal: "About two of the clock I 
reached Capt. Marshall's house, which is half way be- 



408 NOTABLE THINGS. 

tween Boston and Salem ; here I staid to refresh nature 
with a pint of sack and a good fowl. Capt. Marshall is 
a hearty old gentleman, formerly one of Oliver's soldiers, 
upon which he very much values himself" He was a 
captain in the parliamentary forces, and hence had a 
legitimate claim to his title. His first appearance here 
was as early as 1635, but he returned to England to 
take a hand in the sanguinary commotions. With such 
a landlord the Anchor must have been a very popular 
public resort. He died on the 23d of December, 1689. 
And as it would be wearisome to speak individually of the 
entire succession of landlords of the Anchor, but one or 
two more will be introduced in this connection. 

It was famous in provincial times as Norwood's 
Tavern, being kept for many years by Zaccheus Nor- 
wood, after whose death it was continued by his widow. 
Its high reputation seems to have been well sustained 
during the whole Norwood administration ; and no house 
in New England, out of the metropolis, was more cele- 
brated for its hospitable care of travellers or its provision 
for social entertainments. 

Then came along Josiah Martin, an English adven- 
turer, who married the widow Norwood and became 
landlord. He was eccentric and evidently at times a 
very disagreeable character, though he could, when he 
chose,successfully act the part of a gentleman. Occa- 
sionally he would conduct himself as if extremely pious, 
and at other times act as if he were an offspring of the 
evil one himself Witticisms, practical jokes and whim- 
sical displays were his chief entertainments, and many 
a guest departed disgusted by his strange behavior. It 
is said that he once, on a hot summer Sunday, forced 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 4O9 

his poor wife to accompany him, in a double sleigh, 
drawn by a span of mettlesome horses, in a ride to 
meeting at the Old Tunnel, some two miles off, all bun- 
dled up in winter robes, the sleigh-runners grating 
horribly and striking a line of fire on the stony road. 
But he became patriotically inspired when the Revolu- 
tion broke out, shouldered his musket and went off, 
never to return. 

Landlord Jacob Newhall kept the tavern during 
the Revolution, and in that turbulent period it was 
regarded as an institution most worthy to be sustained. 
No Tory had quarter there and a red-coat was pursued 
with turkey-cock vigor. Under Mr. Martin the sign- 
board presented a pictured lion and unicorn ; but Mr. 
Newhall soon substituted a rising sun, as more in 
accordance with his own patriotic aspirations and hopes. 
Soldiers upon the march — once, it is said, a whole reg- 
iment — were often entertained there ; and if they had 
no money their immediate wants were supplied and 
future ability trusted for recompense. Mr. Newhall 
kept the tavern till 1807, and then retired, not in pen- 
ury, perhaps, but by no means rich ; a condition attrib- 
utable, no doubt, to his liberal way of conducting his 
affairs and his real benevolence of heart. 

It becomes necessary now to draw attention to other 
topics — topics connected with the earlier history of the 
Anchor and its vicinage. The place that once knew 
that renowned house of entertainment, now knows it 
no more. The whole region has been shorn of most 
of its romantic features, and the hum of business has 
superseded the rural sounds that greeted the ears of the 
good fathers of the Plantation. 
R 



410 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

The once famous locality known as the Pirates' 
Glen is within a half hour's walk of the little upland 
crest on which the Anchor Tavern stood. There was 
no place in the vicinity more visited, in former days, 
by the curious and romantic. Traditions of startling 
interest are connected with it, relating to the days 
of the sanguinary old freebooters. 

It is a deep, sequestered ravine near the easterly 
bank of the river, and is even now well worthy of a 
visit by all who have an eye for nature in her wilder 
aspects. It was towards fifty years ago, or to be more 
precise, in 1 83 1 ^ that the writer, with a romancing student 
made his first descent into the lonely dell. The deso- 
lating arm of the woodcutter had not been there for 
many years ; and it would be difficult for one, now that 
the hills in the vicinity have been shorn of their ancient 
forest vesture, to conceive of the wildness of the place. 
By the aid of some jottings made at the time of this 
first visit he is able to give a sufficiently exact descrip- 
tion of its appearance at that period. 

Arrived in the Glen, as you face the south, a dismal 
swamp lies before you. Upon your right, is a wall of 
dense forest growth, clothing the rugged sides of a hill 
that towers far above the tallest tree in the Glen, 
flanked by almost insurmountable crags and pathless 
wilds. Upon your left is a frowning battlement of rock, 
rivalling in height that upon the other side, with here 
and there a dull patch of soil — in advance of which a 
host of huge hemlocks rear themselves, outstretching 
their branches of dark glossy green, interwoven so 
thickly and interspersed with briars and thorny under- 
brush, that you could hardly tear your way through, 
even were it possible afterward to ascend the rock. 
Behind you is the narrow, rough and winding footpath 



PIRATES GLEN. 4I I 

by which you entered. And the first thought that 
occurs as you gaze around in this unhallowed retreat is, 
that should this path be closed to your egress, you are 
incarcerated in a fearful prison. If you turn your eye 
straight upward, as the ponderous branches move to 
and fro you catch glimpses of the deep blue heavens. 
The ground is always damp and covered with that 
viscous kind of moss so common in low swampy places 
of the forest. A few protruding rocks and a fallen 
trunk or two furnish rude seats for visitors by whom 
they are readily occupied, for one cannot descend hither 
without toil and fatigue. Here and there too a decayed 
stump may be seen, remnants of stately trees which 
extended their sheltering branches over the sacrilegious 
heads of those from whom the Glen received its repul- 
sive name. 

Near the centre there is an open space, of limited ex- 
tent, where, as tradition informs us, about fhe middle of 
century 1600, stood a rude hut occupied by a small band 
of miserable pirates, who, tired of their bloody traffic 
on the seas, had retired hither, in gloomy seclusion to 
pass the remainder of their days or to avoid pursuit and 
the penalty they deserved. Their retreat, however, as 
tradition goes on to say, was finally discovered, and the 
entire horde, with one exception, captured and taken 
to England by a naval cruiser which had sometime 
before appeared on the coast, information of their move- 
ments having in a mysterious way been obtained. Those 
captured were executed. But the one who escaped made 
his way through the woods and found congenial quar- 
ters in a cave beneath a jagged rock — to this day 
known as Dungeon Rock — surrounded by almost im- 
penetrable swamp and tangled forest. He too came to 
a tragic end, the earthquake of 1658, splitting the rocky 



412 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

roof of his wretched home and projecting forward an 
immense mass in such a manner as to close up the only 
apperture of ingress and egress, and entombing him 
alive. Tradition, too, speaks of treasures buried by 
them ; and for the possession of which attempts have 
from time to time been made by the credulous and 
avaricious. 

The hut of the pirates, as just remarked, is said to 
have stood near the centre of the Glen. And one may 
still discern traces of the well they dug and of the 
garden they planted. By climbing the tallest tree one 
can scarcely get a glimpse beyond the gloomy confines, 
though here and there the eye may be carried along 
some narrow pass till the view is closed up by a distant 
hill, nothing being perceived but the dark bosom of the 
forest, undulating in the breeze, unless, glancing over the 
swamp the bright waters of the Atlantic may be traced, 
drawn in a deep blue thread along the southern horizon. 

Such and so wild was the Pirates' Glen in 1831. 
And no one who had a taste for the romantic could 
have failed of being compensated for the fatigue of 
climbing over the rugged hills and receiving scratches 
from the briars that choked up the narrow footpath by 
which it was entered, in the privilege of passing an 
hour in its dismal confines. But the guide, if one had 
been taken, would have cautioned him not to throw away 
the rude walking stick which he had cut by the way- 
side to assist him in his progress, as he might be fated 
to encounter some hideous reptile. Perhaps the first 
sound that greeted his ears would have been the ter- 
rifying noise of the rattlesnake as he sported among 
the shattered, moss-covered rocks ; or he might have 
been startled on seeing the black snake or brown adder 
coiling among the shrubbery. 



JOEL DUNN. 413 

It was remarked that attempts had been made at 
various times to discover the places where the pirates 
had hidden their treasure, it appearing to have been 
taken for granted that they had somewhere buried 
heaps of jewels and gold. It will not be necessary 
to occupy time in giving a detailed account of the 
labors of Mr. Marble, who in 1852 commenced his 
herculean task at Dungeon Rock, in the hope of exhu- 
ming treasure which supposed spiritual revelators had 
announced to be lying there beside the moldering 
bones of the lone outlaw who escaped from the Glen, 
as they form a part of the history of our own day ; and 
therefore we will proceed to treat of earlier events. 

A conspicuous personal ornament of' the Anchor, 
for a considerable time, was an individual generally 
known by the expressive nickname of Bowlegs, the 
occasion of which designation can easily be imagined. 
His dress name, however, if not his true one, seems to 
have been Joel Dunn. 

It was upon a gusty and drizzly November night 
that he came limping down the Boston road, apparently 
so weary and chilled as to occasionally stagger into a 
bush or ditch by the wayside. He was dressed in 
rather grotesque style, having enormous shoes of uncur- 
ried leather, with gaping rents through which the miry 
ooze had free passage ; torn and besmeared gray leg- 
gins ; leather small-clothes, begrimmed with pitch and 
grease ; and over all a rusty-brown hat, flabby and 
flapping in its drenched condition, with brim enor- 
mously wide excepting where the hand of time or some- 
thing more mischievous had torn ofl" samples of various 
size. A belt of fox-skin encircled his waist, seemingly 
intended for the preservation of his loose personal 



414 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

property — an Indian pipe, a small package or two 
done up in scraps of skin, a rusty sheath-knife, and so 
on. This was a convenient arrangement, as it left his 
hands at liberty for the management of the long staff 
which the limp and curving infirmity of his legs ren- 
dered it necessary for him to carry. His beard was 
long and frowzy, and the visible parts of his face showed 
the footprints of smallpox. 

Arrived opposite the Anchor, he made an unsteady 
pause, and having, with as close attention as he could 
command, eyed the creaking sign for a few moments, 
he crouched a little, with his hands on his knees, for the 
purpose of peering into the bar-room window that threw 
its ruddy light out upon the rain-puddles and rutty 
cart-path. Then, as if satisfied with his observation, he 
made a lunge forward, and fell exhausted, his body 
resting in the mire and his head upon the edge of the 
bench by the door. The door flew open, for the fall 
was heard, and Captain Marshall, who was at the time 
landlord, and who was never known to turn the needy, 
distressed or forlorn empty away, his benign maxim 
being — first relieve distress, then inquire — soon had 
him comfortably installed on the settle, before the brisk 
fire and with a mug of spiced flip at his lips. He soon 
began to revive, and in a wavering but sufficiently 
distinct voice, was able to ask for " more." The en- 
couraging symptoms continued, till, within a couple 
of hours he was able to take a few whiffs at his pipe, 
and then cat a generous slice of bear-steak. 

From the little information gathered at that time, he 
appeared to be a tramp who had drifted up from Ply- 
mouth colony — the word tramp at that time indicating 
those who travelled from place to place, procuring a 
subsistence by doing small jobs in the families by whom 



JOEL DUNN. 415 

they were entertained. Some were cobblers, and car- 
ried about a few tools and bits of leather ; some were 
tinkers and after a rude manner mended pots and pans ; 
some were peddlers of small wares ; and some were 
accustomed to let themselves out as laborers for a few 
weeks at a time. There were not many of that shift- 
less, beggarly and often vicious class at this day found 
drifting about the country and by us called tramps ; 
still, there were^ some, as the laws of Draco would 
fail to exterminate a race that nature herself saw fit to 
produce. 

One of the packages secured to the unique belt of the 
wayfarer was supposed by the worthy Captain to con- 
tain the tools of some handicraft ; but for the present 
he abstained from all curious questioning. The several 
mugs of flip went down as if there were no possible 
objection below to their reception, and that pleased the 
host as it was complimentary to his brewing. 

After a long night's rest the straggler was able to stir 
about some light labor and manifested a desire to make 
himself useful. By night he had done a fair day's 
work at shelling corn. And so he kept on, from day to 
day, an inmate at sufferance, indeed, but with increas- 
ing approbation ; his sphere of usefulness constantly 
enlarging till it seemed as if the exact niche nature had 
designed him to occupy had at last been found. He 
did all sorts of jobs, from exhibiting the tricks of the 
bear at the sign-post to the preparation of bar-room 
drinks ; was a good hunter, and the game he brought 
from the woods and marshes to the table of the Anchor 
was the delight of many an epicurean guest. But above 
all his other accomplishments in the field of manual 
labor, perhaps, was his skill in wood-chopping. That 
was a very important employment in those days, and 



4 1 5 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

through it he soon became known far beyond the pre- 
cincts of the Anchor. 

Of Joel's mental traits sufficient will appear as we 
proceed ; but it is well to admit, here, that he was the 
victim of one frailty of a serious nature ; and that frailty 
was, no doubt, the cause of his ill-success in life, for he 
had such skill in various ways that would under differ- 
ent circumstances have ensured him a good livelihood. 
He was given to strong drink ; in short he was a toper, 
and must have his times of elevation. Not all the 
scoldings of Captain Marshall or the solemn admonitions 
of the good minister Whiting could lead him to forego 
his cups. He was in middle age at the time he appeared 
at the Anchor, and was presently in good health with 
the exception of a slight tremulousness, occasioned, 
probably, by his habits. He had picked up a great 
many shreds of information during his wanderings, had 
quick perceptions, and a waggish turn that did much to 
interest and amuse the class accustomed to assemble 
in the bar-room during the long winter evenings. 

The good nature of Joel, and his readiness to do any 
neighbor a favor, not unfrequently led him into difficul- 
ties such as are apt to overtake those who are disposed 
to be accommodating. Many pages might be filled by 
accounts of his mishaps from this source ; and an in- 
stance which comes to mind at this moment may be 
given. 

There was a widow woman in the neighborhood, who 
kept a cow, and did a little at flax-spinning, weaving, 
herb-gathering, and so forth, sufficient to give her a 
tolerable living. She did most of the labor about the 
premises with &jjr own hands ; but there was now and 
then occasion for the help of a masculine neighbor, 
and that was readily obtained, for she was held in much 



JOEL DUNN. 417 

esteem throughout the Plantation. Joel used to drop 
in once in a while for a chat, and when he saw the need 
would offer his services. His favors were gratefully 
acknowledged and the two became quite friendly ; inso- 
much that gossip pointed to a final matrimonial com- 
panionship, though it is not probable that the widov/ 
ever had a thought in that direction whatever fancies 
might have disturbed the habitual current of Joel's 
thoughts. 

The widow had a piece of marsh, lying along the 
western bank of the river, south of where the Turnpike 
was laid out, generations after, and on a certain occasion 
when the grass needed cutting, the man who had agreed 
to do the labor went off on a fishing excursion. Joel 
happening along, was informed of her dilemma, and at 
once offered to go himself and make the hay. Such an 
offer, in such a strait, was not to be refused, and soon 
after he was on his way to the marsh, with scythe and 
rake, and otherwise armed with a basket of provision 
and jug of drink prepared by the careful hand of the 
widow. Arrived at the scene of action, he at once fell 
lustily to work and soon had sufficient for a respectable 
stack spread out for the maturing smiles of the sun. He 
then partook of his rations and yielded himself up to 
gentle reverie, the widow herself, perhaps, furnishing 
the rallying point of his discursive thoughts ; the con- 
tents of the jug all the while sensibly diminishing by 
his frequent absent-minded sips. 

When the declining sun gave warning, he vigorously 
exercised the rake and the stack rapidly grew upon the 
tide-stakes. The jug by this time was quite empty, 
and he felt like taking a short nap, before proceeding to 
give the stack its final rounding-off. And where could 
he repose with more comfort than on the stack itself? 
R* 27 



41 8 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

Up he mounted, and was soon oblivious to all things 
sublunary excepting such as obtrude through the me- 
dium of dreams. Night drew on, and he still slept. 
The retiring sea-birds wheeled about him as if curious 
to know what kept him there, and then, screaming an 
unsatisfied good-night, soared away to their wave-girt 
homes. How long he slept he did not know ; but when 
he awoke the moon was just rising over the water, and 
as he became conscious of his surroundings he was 
startled at hearing the rippling of the tide about the 
base of his saline couch. He hardly dared to move, 
but yet felt the necessity of ascertaining the position 
of affairs. Being satisfied that the base of the stack 
was wearing away, and not knowing how deep the 
water already was, nor whether the tide was ebbing or 
flowing, he grew very much alarmed. However, having 
good lungs, he set up a series of terrific yells that rang 
over the expanse with a power that might have appalled 
the very fishes in the river ; and were declared to have 
been heard even at the door of the Anchor, where 
they were taken to be the cries of some wild beast. 

Joel could not gain a very satisfactory view of his 
peril, because by leaning over, he would be in danger 
of sliding off, head foremost, and thus abruptly closing 
his earthly account ; but there was no doubt that his 
stack, lightly thrown up as it was, was fast being under- 
mined and would presently fall, like a house upon the 
sand, of which he had somewhere read. Then, to his 
horror, he descried off upon the river, a huge nonde- 
script monster, his black sides and lank, dripping fins, 
glistening in the moonlight, dashing on towards him. 
He was almost petrified at the sight, but yet managed 
now and then again to make the welkin ring with his 
shouts and yells. The night wind, too, seemed ambi- 



JOEL DUNN. 419 

tious to share in his destruction by sending merciless 
blasts against the side of the stack, and setting the 
loose locks flying off over the waves. There seemed to 
be no escape for him, as the stack was destined to be 
rent asunder by the wind or demolished by the tide. 

But the object of greatest dread was the on-coming 
monster of the sea. On, on he came ; and as the 
distance waned Joel's terror waxed, till he suddenly 
sank away, entirely unconscious, not to return to a 
realization of earthly perils, till the cold waves had him 
in their embrace. His treacherous bed had yielded, 
and its dispersed remains were floating about quite 
unconcerned as to the predicament in which they had 
left him. His cold bath, however, soon led him to see 
the necessity of immediate action. A thump against 
the tide-stakes, on which he had been in great danger 
of impalement, assured him that the water was not very 
deep, and he presently stood erect, dripping and chilled, 
to be sure, but determined to do his utmost for his own 
deliverance. What course to take he did not know, as 
deep creeks or the river itself might intervene. 

To his astonishment he now heard human voices ; 
and turning with a shudder toward the quarter where 
he had last seen the approaching monster, his eyes were 
indeed opened and he perceived that the object at which 
he had been so foolishly terrified was but a boat. Some 
fishermen had been belated and were rowing up the 
river. They had heard his despairing shouts and were 
cautiously wading toward him, not knowing what they, 
on their part, might be destined to encounter. How- 
ever, on drawing near they recognized their neighbor 
Bowlegs, and without stopping a moment to inquire by 
what means he came into his strange predicament, set 
about his rescue. 



420 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

They were not long in getting back to the boat with 
him ; but in their drenched and chilled condition had 
no inclination to enjoy the humorous side of the adven- 
ture. Once safely in the boat, Joel's spirits revived 
with wonderful speed, aided a little, perhaps, by his 
repeated embraces of the unexhausted liquor keg with 
which the boat was provided. He insisted on doing 
full duty at the oars ; and as they drew near the landing 
place could not restrain himself from breaking forth in 
a right jolly song that rang stirringly even to the hills 
at the foot of which nestled the widow's cozy home. 

The whole story of Joel's adventure was soon known 
to every one in the settlement ; and it did not circulate 
free from fictitious embellishment ; but he endured the 
raillery and jokings that fell to his lot, with a patience 
indicating that he considered them fairly his due. 

Joseph Jenks, the younger, who labored with his 
father, at the Iron Works, was a frequent visitor at the 
Anchor, in Captain Marshall's time. He was opinion- 
ated, and quite free to express his estimation of others. 
But he was intelligent, generous and companionable 
and withal an ingenious worker on such machinery as 
was required in the industrial arts of those days. For 
these reasons, if no other, he naturally stood high in 
the community. On the long winter evenings he was 
always welcome in the bar-room or the parlor, and 
regarded as one of the chief entertainers ; joined zeal- 
ously in the debates, and being among those best in- 
formed on current topics, received marked attention. 
With the irrepressible landlord he very well agreed on 
political questions, and few exceeded him in fervor 
of lamentation over the restoration of the monarchy or 
in denunciation of those through whom it was brought 



JOSEPH JENKS. 421 

about. His loyal opponents, at one time, not being 
able to overcome him in argument, resorted to the 
questionable expedient of accusing him of treason. 

On the first of April, 1660, he was brought before 
the Court, and several persons summoned to testify 
against him. One Nicholas Pinion deposed that he 
" did heere Joseph Jinks, jun, say that if he hade the 
king heire, he wold cutte of his head and make a foot- 
ball of it." Thomas Tower testified that when the 
king's name was mentioned Mr. Jenks said, " I should 
rather that his head were as his father's rather than he 
should come to England to set up popery there." The 
case remained undecided for some time and he was kept 
imprisoned. He defended himself in a long letter to 
the Court, and the final decision was that the words 
" were all too weak to prove him guilty of treason." 

Captain Marshall was much exercised by the proceed- 
ings, exerted himself energetically in behalf of the 
accused, and on his enlargement had a glorious banquet 
and illumination at the Anchor. On the very day of 
the banquet, as one of the obnoxious accusers was 
passing the tavern, the Captain happened to be riding 
up toward the door, and what should his unruly horse 
do but sheer in just such a manner as to force the 
odious individual to spring for safety toward the sign- 
post ; so near it, in fact, that the watchful bear was 
able to scratch acquaintance so effectually as to send the 
blood trickling down his limbs. And other accidents, 
in a similar way annoying, kept happening to the con- 
scientious accusers, for a long time after. 

A pleasant story is told of a bewitching incident by 
which Mr. Jenks's bright little sister Deborah, or Dolly 
as she seems to have been familiarly called, came to be 



422 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

the object of pleasant gossip. She was a sparkling gem 
among the rustic maidens of the settlement, and it was 
determined by her ambitious parents and her affection- 
ate brother, who was considerably her senior, that she 
should receive as finished an education as could be 
procured by their somewhat limited means. To that 
end, it was arranged with the minister, Mr. Whiting, 
that she should become a member of the select class 
of misses who met at the parsonage two or three times 
a week to receive such instruction both in polite de- 
portment and book studies, as he and his accomplished 
wife, who belonged to the English nobility, were so well 
able to impart. 

Dolly was sprightly, amiable and apt in study, and 
soon became a favorite in the little school. She usually, 
when the weather was not stormy, walked down from 
her home, unattended, overlooking the loneliness of the 
road in the charming variety of the scenery and the 
many romantic attractions ; well knowing that an atten- 
tive brother would always come down, towards night, 
to escort her home. 

On one occasion, however, it happened that the good 
brother was delayed till the twilight had well nigh faded 
away into night. Her task was concluded, and she 
stood impatiently gazing out of the window upon the 
bed of bright flowers, twirling her wreathed hat by the 
wampum string which an Indian girl, a companion of 
many of her woodland rompings, had given her. Pres- 
ently there came a rap at the door, and she hastened 
to respond to the summons. Swinging the door wide 
open, in her usually ardent manner, she threw her arms 
about the neck of the supposed brother and bestowed 
a few as fervid kisses as loving sister could bestow or 
loving brother could desire. Not meeting with the 



JOSEPH JENKS. 423 

accustomed return, she drew back and on taking one 
glimpse at the face before her, sprang aside in intense 
maidenly confusion, ejaculating, " Why, why, what have 
I done ! you are not my brother ! " Dashing away, she 
sought Mrs. Whiting, and unburdened her fluttering 
heart, beseeching her to go instantly and explain to the 
astonished stranger the circumstances of her mistake. 

It turned out that the disturbing caller was a young 
Cambridge student who had been sent by his Hebrew 
teacher to get the opinion of Mr. Whiting on some 
knotty question arising in the course of his study of 
that language, for the minister was known as one of the 
best Hebrew scholars in the Colony. The student, in 
his turn, besought Mrs. Whiting to recall the fair apolo- 
gist, as nothing could be more agreeable to him than a 
proper introduction after such a rapturous greeting. 
Mrs. Whiting, probably entering somewhat into the 
humor of the thing, readily summoned in the blushing 
Dolly. But she was coy and he diffident ; so that 
scarcely a word was spoken at the embarrassing inter- 
view ; and what else could have been expected. 

Just as Dolly left the room another rap was heard at 
the door ; and this time, sure enough, it was the brother. 
Good-nights were speedily interchanged, and the brother 
and sister departed, their homeward path lighted by the 
gathering stars. 

It somehow happened that the difficulties of the young 
student with his Hebrew lessons began presently to 
very much increase, so that he was obliged more and 
more often to seek the assistance of Mr. Whiting ; and 
what was a little remarkable he had to come on the 
very days when Dolly's class met. And furthermore, it 
repeatedly happened, on pleasant days, that he was 
coming down the lonely road at the very time when she 



424 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

came tripping along. Of course they saluted each 
other ; and being bound for the same place, what more 
natural than that they should stroll along side by side 
and talk of the balmy air and lovely scenery. Nor 
should it be thought wonderful or indecorous if when 
they felt fatigued they should sit down on a rock by 
the wayside to rest, or that he should deviate a little 
to gather for her a white lily or brilliant cardinal. 

It is unnecessary to pursue minor details. Their 
meetings became more and more frequent and less and 
less reserved. A cordial friendship was established ; 
and that was succeeded by true love. The temperament 
of both was ardent, their conduct discreet, and the 
friends of neither found occasion to object to a final 
union. 

The young man diligently pursued his studies, grad- 
uated, and in due time settled in an honorable profession 
in Boston. Dolly with renewed vigor pursued her 
studies under the guidance of the good Mr. Whiting 
and his refined wife, and soon took rank among the most 
accomplished young ladies in the Bay Colony. 

As has already appeared, the clergy of that period 
were not permitted to perform the marriage ceremony, 
certain magistrates being specially commissioned for 
the agreeable office. Captain Marshall was thus com- 
missioned, and ever held himself ready to discharge the 
duty designed to make others so happy. In due time 
our young friends were prepared to apply for his ser- 
vices ; and in preparation for the delightsome occasion 
he spent more time in brushing, combing and otherwise 
sprucing up, and in mentally conning his accustomed 
formula, than he had ever done before on such a call. 
He would have preferred that the ceremony should 
have taken place at the Anchor, as usual — for he had 



JOSEPH JENKS. 425 

a chamber, which he called his bridal chamber, in which 
he always desired to bind together the loving hearts — 
but that the friends would not consent to. The charm- 
ing little cottage home of the bride was to be the scene 
of the blissful rite. And there, upon a delicious day in 
early autumn, the twain were made one, and soon 
departed for their home in Boston, amid the warmest 
congratulations of friends and villagers. Many happy 
years were in store for them, and before they were laid 
beside each other, in the old burying ground on Tre- 
mont street, there was a circle of grandchildren around 
them, and they had even begun to hear the prattle 
of one or two of the next degree. 

But a word or two more of our friend Joseph Jenks, jr. 
As has been intimated, he was accustomed to express 
himself rather freely on political topics and once or 
twice suffered from his unguarded remarks ; notably 
about the time of the Restoration, which to him was an 
event of extreme vexation. It was natural enough that 
he should frequently visit the Anchor, for it was the 
grand meeting place for discussions on public affairs as 
well as for social gossip. But he should not have been 
there too much at night, for he had a wife at home. 
That he had affection for her, too, and acted the part of 
an indulgent husband cannot be doubted. As she was a 
lady of some account among the more fashionable of the 
little community, and withal comely in person, he took 
pleasure in seeing her bedecked in such a manner that 
the jewel should lose no lustre through an unbecoming 
setting. Here again he was brought into trouble, for 
the watchful Court, in a series of sumptuary enactments, 
sought to discourage every species of extravagance ; 
and on the 29th of June, 1652, at the Quarterly session, 



426 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

this presentment was made : " We present Ester, the 
wife of Joseph Jynkes, Junior, ffor wearing silver lace." 
It may well be presumed that this presentment was the 
subject of vehement lingual agitation at the Anchor. 
The sumptuary laws, which reached almost every de- 
partment of social and domestic life, had strong advo- 
cates as well as strong opponents. It is said that the 
disputes touching this judicial proceeding occasioned a 
coldness between Mr. Jenks and Captain Marshall that 
continued till the next time they met, by invitation of 
the latter, at a chowder party on Pines Point ; then. all 
differences vanished, for one of the Captain's chowders 
was sufficient to allay the animosities of a whole neigh- 
borhood. The coldness can hardly be accounted for in 
view of their agreement on the great political questions 
of the day ; but it may be presumed that the vigilant 
old soldier could not brook anything bearing a sem- 
blance to cavalier fashions. 

It would not be necessary to state, were it known, 
how long Joel Dunn remained an inmate of the Anchor. 
But he finally became matrimonially inclined ; and there 
being in the neighborhood a hoyden widow — not, how- 
ever, the one for whom he underwent such peril on the 
salt marsh — who happened to be inclined in the same 
direction, a bargain was soon struck, and by the official 
interposition of Captain Marshall the two presently 
became one. They settled down to quiet domestic life 
in a small cottage near the Anchor, and there they 
reared a little family. He continued to be largely em- 
ployed about the tavern, though as 'a profession he fol- 
lowed the more dignified calling of woodcutter. 

It seems as if some people were fated to undergo 
more than a fair share of mishaps and strange adven- 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 42/ 

tures ; and judging from the accounts we have of Joel 
he must have been one of that class. Circumstances 
often bring such people into greater prominence than 
any quality of their own would seem to warrant. But 
in the frightful scene at Dungeon Rock, on the night 
of the great earthquake of 1658, if it truly happened as 
he persistently declared, he was anything but a super- 
numerary. 

In speaking, some pages back, of the capture of the 
miserable occupants of Pirates' Glen, it was remarked 
that one escaped and found his way to the Dungeon 
Rock, where, in the cave beneath, he met his terrible 
death ; the convulsion projecting forward a huge mass, 
closing up the entrance, and entombing him alive. The 
name of this outcast was Thomas Veal. So runs the 
tradition. 

That there is a liberal share of fiction interwoven 
with the history of this romantic spot may be granted ; 
but the tremendous effects of the earthquake are yet 
plainly visible ; and the view from the summit of the 
cliff, and the wild scenery by which it is environed, will 
well repay a visit. 

The Dungeon Rock is one of the highest elevations 
within the territorial limits of the old Third Plantation. 
And though still surrounded by much that is charm- 
ing to the lover of nature in her more untamed aspects, 
it is yet true that the woodsman's ax has destroyed many 
of the most interesting features. Well does the writer 
remember his first visit. It was in 1832, at which time, 
and for many years after, it was difficult for any but an 
experienced woodsman to find, there being not even a 
cartway — nothing but what were called rabbit paths 
running here and there about the swamps by which it 



428 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

was flanked. And jottings of this visit, too, like those 
of his first visit to the Pirates' Glen, made at the time, 
enable him to recall a tolerably exact picture. 

Taking the rough woodland road that enters Pine 
Hill district, from Walnut street, it was pursued, with 
an occasional detour for the purpose of avoiding sloughs 
and miry hollows till a plain, somewhat elevated, opened 
westwardly. Striking off here, crossing the plain and 
penetrating a deep valley where many huge pines reared 
themselves, with here and there a tall, graceful hemlock, 
the damp sward being almost covered by the dark green 
leaves of the checkerberry plant, daintily studded with 
scarlet berries and with the curling winter-green wind- 
ing in every direction, a steep hill was ascended, the 
progress being impeded by the barricades of shattered 
rock, decayed branches and rank undergrowth. From 
this hill was gained the first glimpse of the famous 
Dungeon Rock. The character of the scenery and 
condition of the precinct being thus, only fifty years ago, 
how must they have been two centuries before — back 
in the very infancy of the Plantation ? 

Near the summit of the hill just described, in the 
memorable year 1658, a group of oaks and walnuts 
stood. The underbrush had been cleared away and a 
rude cabin erected for the woodcutter who now and 
then pursued his labors in that lonely quarter of the 
forest, furnishing him with occasional shelter from the 
fiercer instalments of storm by day and from the prowl- 
ing beast by night, whenever ill-fortune compelled him 
to pass the slow hours in that wild region. A rusty 
horseshoe, nailed to the lintel, was deemed potent to 
keep at bay all stragglers from the unseen world below, 
and within, a rude fireplace enabled him to secure the 
comforts of a fire, while a few battered utensils, contrib- 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 429 

uted by benevolent townspeople, furnished the means 
of serving a meal if provisions were at hand. 

It was in this solitary place and upon a stump just in 
front of the cabin entrance that our friend Joel Dunn, 
according to his ov/n account, sat himself down, one 
wild afternoon, in the autumn of the above-named event- 
ful year, 1658, for the purpose of taking a little rest 
before commencing his tramp through the pathless 
woods, to his cottage home, near the Anchor ; a dis- 
tance of some two miles. He had been hard at work 
all day, cutting and quartering logs to be piled on the 
plain below, to season for the next year's fuel. 

Joel well imagined that he was the only human being 
in that lonely quarter, for he had not heard the ring of 
another woodsman's ax the livelong day. The only 
human being ? yes, if Thomas Veal, whose cave, beneath 
the Dungeon Rock, in the neighborhood, is excepted. 
But the brave Joel acknowledged no fear of the outlaw, 
declaring that Veal would come to a poor market by 
interfering with him. 

Yet Joel could not banish from his mind an occasional 
thought of the pirate. As he pursued his labor he 
now and then involuntarily turned around to gaze 
along the vista of gnarled trunks ; and he often imag- 
ined that he heard upon the crackling leaves approaching 
or retreating footsteps ; and more than once a shudder 
crept over him as he heard the sharp ring of his ax 
echo along the rocky hills. And when the crash of the 
lofty pine, as it fell by his lusty strokes had ceased, his 
senses were quickened, and he could not avoid pausing 
to listen a moment in breathless silence. And once, 
while seated on a fallen trunk, quietly imbibing a com- 
forting drop from his friendly jug, he was startled 
almost out of his senses by fancying that he caught a 



430 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

glimpse of a burly form dodging about among the 
trees. 

It was drawing towards night, and there sat Joel, on 
the stump, as before remarked, taking a little rest, and 
otherwise fortifying himself by a sip from the now 
almost exhausted jug, whose inspiring contents had 
done so much to sustain him during the labors of the 
day ; and also doing a little more for the inner man by 
uncovering his pail and with a clean chip devoted to 
the offices of knife, fork and spoon, making such meal 
as he might of the remains of his noon repast. These 
duties over, he arose preparatory to taking up his line 
of march homeward. 

The weather was disagreeable, but not cold. The 
air was heavy and oppressive, and a portentous scud 
was flying across the heavens in threatening haste. Joel 
slipped on his great jacket, swung his pail on his arm, 
threw his ax upon his shoulder and directed his steps 
towards Ihe valley before spoken of But he had hardly 
entered its confines when he was startled at beholding 
coiled directly in his path a huge rattlesnake. Of en- 
countering such an enemy he had not once dreamed, 
for if the time had not fully arrived for such reptiles to 
be torpid in their winter retreats, it was quite time for 
them to have retired for the night. 

His first impulse was to hurl his ax at the monster. 
But there was something in that flaming eye of venom 
that almost instantly shot a bewildering influence to his 
brain. Extreme hideousness is liable to produce an 
effect like this in a strongly apprehensive mind. Fas- 
cination, perhaps, properly enough describes it, though 
that does not seem exactly to touch the root of the idea. 
Neither does magneti.>m. Joel, as he alleged, became 
by degrees perfectly spell-bound ; his power of aggres- 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 43 1 

sion or resistance entirely gone, and his bewilderment 
constantly increasing. 

As he kept his eyes steadily fixed on those of the 
monster, the latter seemed to expand and send forth 
glowing waves, tinged with every color of the rainbow ; 
and still they seemed to enlarge till he appeared to be 
gazing over a broad sea, upon whose undulating surface 
were constantly rolling in wild confusion glistening 
waves of every hue. 

Each sense and faculty partook of that fearful night- 
mare condition where undefinable but distressing appre- 
hensions gather thick and fast. Yet, at intervals, as 
if by some desperate effort of reason and will, a ray 
would penetrate the bewildering charm, rendering him 
in a measure sensible of his situation and enabling him 
to realize that night was fast closing in and that a storm 
was approaching. He longed to be seated by his own 
fireside with his evening meal before him, or on the 
capacious settle in the Anchor bar-room with his mug 
and pipe, recounting the adventures of the day. But 
he was riveted to the spot by the strange fascination. 

It was dark. Still the spell-bound Joel remained in 
the same footprints and still the demoniac eyes seemed 
to expand and increase in lustre. 

The frightful storm drew on. The shriek of the 
terrified night bird rang through the forest. The gusts 
swept angrily along the ravines and bellowed among 
the crags and trembling peaks. The ripened mast fell 
like hail upon the crackling leaves, and dry branches 
were wrenched from their parent trunks and sent whirl- 
ing through the air. And at length the hoarse thunder 
began to roll over the hills reverberating from rock to 
rock and finally in sullen mutterings dying away in the 
heaving bosoms of the swamps. The lightning flashed 



432 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

as if the very heavens were on fire. Rain mingled with 
hail descended in an almost unbroken sheet and it 
seemed as if a storm like that which fell on Sodom and 
Gomorrah were gathering over the quaking hills. 

Tall trees that had for generations braved the tempest 
reeled to and fro, bowing their twisted heads and ming- 
ling one with another their outstretched branches, as 
if clinging together for mutual support, or, yielding to 
the fury of the blast, in majestic capitulation, falling to 
the earth. A thunderbolt sped, cutting a fiery path 
through the dense thickets ; the stoutest trees that 
stood in its irresistible way, fell like blades of grass before 
the mower's scythe ; stagnant pools boiled and rocks 
were rent. These elemental horrors, however, broke 
the serpent spell, and Joel could now turn whithersoever 
he would, gaze in any direction and pursue any path. 
But the storm still raged, and during the intervals 
unillumined by the lightning the darkness was intense. 

There he stood ; and as his eye reverted to the path 
the thunderbolt had opened, in horror he beheld the 
burly form of a man clambering along over the impedi- 
ments that encumbered the way, towards the Dungeon 
Rock, his lank locks streaming in the wind, and his 
strides like those of a wrathy giant. 

And here, as Joel's narrative of his strange experi- 
ences on that eventful night goes on to say., a new 
fascination was upon him. He felt an uncontrollable im- 
pulse to follow the wild way of the Pirate, as he at once 
conceived the one before him to be. By the lightning's 
gleam, he commenced his perilous march in the rear 
of the outlaw ; now, as it appeared to him, twitched by 
some elfin hand through brake and briar, and anon 
thrust into some pestiferous slough. The very earth 
seemed to rise up against him, forcing him to stride 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 433 

higher and higher at every step, and at each unguarded 
moment actually dashing against him with such vio- 
lence as to well nigh crack his head, scratching and 
tearing him about the face and hands till the blood ran 
down upon his garments. 

The old trees joined in the general revelry and seemed 
to be dancing such fantastic figures that it was impos- 
sible to avoid frequent contact with them ; the tenderest 
embraces of their rough arms sorely bruising him, and 
the kicks of the gnarled trunks sending him limping on 
his mysterious course. But the most terrifying feature 
was what seemed to be the derisive laugh of his invisible 
tormentors. 

Following his resistless impulse, after struggling some 
time, he reached the mouth of the cavern under the 
Dungeon Rock. The Pirate himself was just entering. 
Without turning to right or left, with long strides he 
had kept on, in low guttural tones chanting snatches of 
one of the old pirate songs, ending : 

" We buried them on the island shore, 
all under the blasted tree ! 
But their gold we hid in our secret store ; 
ho ! gold and red blood for me." 

Abruptly raising his voice, in a commanding key the 
Pirate vociferated, 

" Come in. Bowlegs, come in. Have a care for your 
self. It rains, and peradventure chills will catch you." 

Without a thought of resistance, Joel, as he persist- 
ently declared, obeyed, and soon found himself in a sort 
of subterranean cell which nature had formed in the 
bowels of the hill beneath the m.ain body of the rock. 
The pitchy darkness concealed every feature of the 
cavern ; but soon the clinking steel of the Pirate had 
furnished the means for lighting a pine knot, and a red 
S 28 



434 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

glare was thrown upon the thick coating of smoke and 
filth that covered the jagged walls. By the flaring light, 
too, were made visible a large table of the rudest work- 
manship, two or three scraggy tree-stumps, designed for 
seats, and a rough kind of shoemaker's bench. In one 
corner stood an old Spanish musket, and about the 
blackened space answering for a fireplace were scattered 
a few bruised and broken cooking utensils. 

" Sit you down, Joel Dunn ; sit you down and rest ; 
and we will by-and-by have some grave discourse. I 
would hear about your godly neighbors, and the tavern 
gossips withal. Sit you down on yonder seat of oak, 
and enjoy your visit." 

Without uttering a word, Joel seated himself on the 
spider-legged oak stump pointed towards, and the Pirate 
proceeded to roll a huge stone against the entrance 
of the den ; which work was hardly done when a gaunt, 
bloody-jawed wolf rushed up and made a violent effort 
to enter ; but a flaming knot was thrust towards him, 
and with a fierce growl he dashed off into the thicket. 

" That, Joel Dunn, was one of my neighbors — come 
to malce a call. And do you not deem me in a precious 
good circle ? " 

So saying, Veal seated himself upon one of the other 
stumps, and drawing from his pocket some bits of coarse 
bread and dried fish began munching. 

" A dry supper, this, Joel ; worse than sea-fare ; but 
where 's the flask of drink the Captain gave you at the 
Anchor ; not all gone yet, I flatter me. Come, come, 
neighbor Bowlegs, a good dram would be reviving ; so 
out with the flask and let 's have a round." 

If any thing was likely to start Joel from his lithargic 
condition it was, next to the article itself, the mention 
of good drink. A sort of confidential feeling arose on 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 435 

the demand for the jug, and he was able with some 
steadiness of tone to reply, 

" O, Master Veal, a sip from the jug would indeed be 
reviving ; but where it is I know not ; long ago it was 
twitched from my hand in the swamp ; but it was empty ; 
the last drop had gone." 

" Gone down your burning gullet, Joel. Just as I 
supposed. Go to, you drunken vagabond. You are 
even now steeped in fire-water. Who sent you hither 
and what 's your errand .-• " 

" O, Master Veal, I be not drunk, but tired, vastly 
tired, scared, half drowned, wrenched and mauled. I 
tramped hither early in the morning, to chop, quarter 
and pile for Captain Marshall, him that I much serve, 
at the Anchor ; and I have wrought the whole day." 

" I 've seen you at the Anchor, and know you well ; 
once came I near tolling you off for to draw dagger 
upon as a vagabond hunting me to my burrow by the 
river side, and driving me to this den for a home." 

" Indeed, Master Veal, I did with others hunt for 
you in the woods along the river bank, but we were 
set to the work by the magistrates." 

" I know all that, Joel. I know who moved the folk, 
at the May meeting, to hunt me like a wild beast ; as 
may be they '11 find me to be. Yes, Master Bowlegs, 
I '11 do for them, yet." 

On enunciating this threat, the Pirate arose, and 
stepping near his visitor, or more properly captive, ejac- 
ulated with a sort of awkvyard levity, as the light fell 
upon him, 

" Why, why, Joel, you 're all bloody and torn — face 
and hands ; you 're battered and bruised too, as if you 'd 
been the sport of sharp-nailed imps. What have you 
been about — boxing with barberry bushes and dancing 



436 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

with briars ? Surely none but a drunkard or a madman 
would do in that wise. Go to, you drunkard." 

" O Master Veal, they have played me most foul all 
the night. Such jerking, such rubbing and such scra- 
ping as they have given me against the rough trees 
and rocks, was enough to rake the skin from my very 
teeth. I was like a root of horseradish against the 
tavern grater." 

" Who, Joel Dunn, I would know who hath played 
you thus foul .'* " 

" Some of your folk. Master Veal, by the devil's 
presence ; some of the imps that do your bidding. And 
I would now crave help to gain my way out of this 
pestiferous bound." 

" Some of my folk, Joel Dunn ? What mean you ? 
You lie, and be drunk. You shall depart straitly, and 
none shall bear you company. By my Blood I will not 
have drunken vagabonds hereabout, who will box with 
briars, get worsted, and then go home and utter forth 
lies that breed in their maudlin brains. Some of my 
folk, say you ? Come, come, be up and pushing. I tell 
you again you lie and are drunk and shall depart without 
further parley. And it would be for your good to move 
while the lightning which already is flashing in the east, 
may light the way. Come, now, the sooner you show 
tracks heel inward, the more wholesome for you. Be- 
gone ! and when you reach the Anchor give Tom Veal's 
compliments to Captain Marshall." 

So saying, the Pirate suddenly started, as if struck by 
some new thought, and with considerable effort forced 
himself through a crevice of the rock into what appeared 
to be an inner apartment. 

Joel did not instantly depart, for he felt that he might 
as well meet the terrors within as those without. In 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 43/ 

the absence of his inhospitable host he breathed a little 
more freely, and arising, approached the table, on which 
the pine knot was still blazing, and began to examine 
the objects thereon. A broken dish, a rusty knife, a 
wooden spoon, a pistol, a dirk, a hatchet, a shoemaker's 
hammer, and a few other articles lay in confusion. And 
glistening among some rusty nails, in a clam-shell, he 
saw a jewelled finger ring. This he took up, abstract- 
edly, and nervously slipped on and off the tip of his 
sunburnt finger. 

He could all the time hear the raging of the storm 
without. The thunder seemed to jar the very founda- 
tions of the hills, and at intervals the lightning threw a 
lurid glare into the cavern, discovering nauseous vermin 
crawling about the rocky floor. The rushing of the 
winds and the hootings of the owls without, and the 
chirping of the awakened crickets within, formed a 
strange, wild discord. And he had to be continually 
on the alert to dodge the numerous bats that held their 
airy flight about his head. But the most terrifying of all 
was that unearthly laugh which he still occasionally heard 
mingling with the din of the elements, and which he 
doubted not was the mocking of malignant fiends. He 
could not avoid shuddering at the thought of commenc- 
ing his homeward march amid such perils. But still 
the broad hint, or rather command of the Pirate, for 
him to begone, seemed to render it equally unsafe to 
remain. 

As connected with these mysterious occurrences, and 
in view of what may hereafter appear, it should be noted 
that a short time before, one of the most winsome of the 
village maidens had disappeared under circumstances 
peculiarly harrowing, on the very day appointed for her 



438 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

nuptials. She had gone out alone, for a short ramble 
among the scenes of her childhood, which she was about 
to quit for a long time if not forever ; and there is no 
certainty that she was ever seen afterwards. The sad 
event occasioned great distress among her friends and 
apprehension among the settlers. 

Return we now to the drama at the Dungeon Rock. 
There stood Joel, terrified and bewildered, till the Pirate 
emerged from the inner crevice, and glaring on his 
trembling victim with uplifted weapon, exclaimed, 

" Joel Dunn, did I not bid you begone } A minute 
more and your head and shoulders may part company. 
Begone, I say." 

At this juncture, as Joel ever afterwards declared, 
with the most unwavering pertinacity, an extraordinary 
impulse impelled him to a posture of defense. He caught 
his ax, and furiously swinging it above his head, directed 
a desperate blow toward the head of the Pirate, who with 
amazing dexterity and a sardonic laugh caught the 
helve in his powerful grip, and with the greatest ease 
wrested it from his grasp. For a few moments the 
two stood confronting each other, glaring like maniacs. 
And then, as Joel expressed it on first relating his 
story to the gaping assemblage in the Anchor bar-room, 
he " went under." So perfectly horrible was the grin 
of the outlaw as he looked down upon him, and so hot 
and hissing his breath, that his senses fairly deserted 
him. All he knew was that there came such a crash as 
if all the hills and rocks had been at once blown to 
pieces. 

Morning came, and the sun threw his bright beams 
over the mangled tops of the pines. And long before 
meridian, Joel Dunn was found by a brother woodsman 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 439 

prostrate upon the side of Dungeon Hill, which was 
strewn with fragments of rock and torn branches. The 
fallen trees, upheaved earth and ejected stones, showed 
that not only had a dreadful storm taken place, but also 
an awful earthquake. Tradition adds that the betrothal 
ring of the affianced maiden who had disappeared so 
strangely was found upon the tip of his finger. 

It was soon discovered that the whole front portion 
of the Dungeon Rock had been riven from the main 
body and projected forward in such a manner as to 
close up the entrance to the cave, entombing alive, as 
was currently assumed, the miserable Pirate. And 
thus it has remained, substantially, to this day. It was 
probably imagined by the pious folk of that day that 
the special object of the earthquake was to securely 
imprison the reprobate Veal ; and hence we their de- 
scendants should not, as that laudable object was fairly 
accomplished, oppose Mr. Marble's efibrts to reopen the 
cave and possess himself of what treasure may be found. 

But what shall we conclude upon concerning Joel 
Dunn .-* Was he a drunken dreamer, on whose sottish 
fancies all these traditions hang ? Did all his disasters 
and distresses on that night lie in an attack of delirium 
tremens .■* Perhaps questions like these may be most 
satisfactorily disposed of by giving a brief extract from 
an old manuscript containing some account of the 
alleged transactions, which seems to have been written 
some years after the events transpired. First, however, 
it should be observed that Joel varied in his versions 
of his confab with the Pirate and of his experience in 
the cave ; but the one that on the whole seemed most 
suitable to the present purpose has been given. After 
various details regarding the occurrences, the quaint 
old writer adds : 



440 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

" These vvordes did make m'^h talke. They did holde 
loell Dun to be one not m'^h giuen to lying. But hee 
was giuen to anoth"" wickednesse w^h doth sometjmes 
bring vp strange phantasjes. Manie doe thinke y' these 
wonders bee y^ devill his doeings, tho'oute and y' hjs 
impes did of a suretie gett hold of loell and vse hjm 
thus hardlie ; y^ devill first comeing in y= shape of a 
rattlesnaike, and after, as hath bin related. Butt to me 
it seemeth likelie y' all fell oute from y^ disorder of 
drinke. And Obadiah Turner saith y' hee too thinketh 
soe. Likewise M' Whitinge. 

" Wee doubt nott y* loell did abide in y woodes all 
y night in y^ w'^h y^ dreadfull earthquake did happ" ; 
and hee surelie must haue hadd terrible tjmes there. 
Butt methinks Kee must haue drank to excesse and y" 
Iain downe nigh y*^ great rocke where hee was found in 
y'= morning, and there dream'^ hjs wonderfull dreames ; 
and itt was strainge y* som frag""s did nott fall vpon 
hjm to hjs destruccion. Butt Godd preserV' hjm y' hee 
might haue space wherein to repent of hjs mannifolde 
sinns. Yet will I sett downe one thing to y*^ credit 
of loell ; w'^h is, y' foreV aff hee w^ take noe more 
strong drinke. M'^h good was don hjm in y' way ; and 
att y^ same tjme hee lost m'^h braverie, for neuer aff 
w** hee goe into y"^ woodes alone, butt took to fBshing 
and makeing of shews. 

" Masf Turner sajth y' loell declar'' vnto hjm manie 
tjmes y' these things were trew, and neV c'' bee made 
to say contrarywise, tho hee allow^ y' being m'^h fluster"^ 
he w^ nott say but hee misrememb'"'^ iust y*^ wordes sajd 
and y'^ things don while in y*^ cave. And Cap" Marshall 
of y= Ankor saith loell declar^ y'^ same ta hjm, manie 
tjmes. Butt som dreamers think all theire dreames 
trew. 



THE DUNGEON ROCK. 44 1 

" What hath bin sajd ab' y^ ring of y= lost maid being 
founde on loell his fing"" som doe stoutlie deny ; and 
y''fore I will nott affirme or deny touching itt." 

Whether the lost maiden alluded to was ever found 
or any tidings of her received, it is quite impossible 
now to determine. Loose traditions may be traced of 
her having been taken captive by strolling Indians and 
carried to the head quarters of a distant tribe, where 
she remained some years, but fi-nally regained her home 
through the assistance of an Indian girl who had con- 
ceived for her a most sisterly affection. At another 
time she was believed to have been discovered among 
the Dutch settlers on Hudson river. It also appears 
that something like Gypsy wanderers were about here 
at an early day. " A companie of stralige people w*=h 
be neither Indjan nor Christian," are mentioned by Mr. 
Turner as having " made their camp in a valley a little 
within y® woods," and he speaks of their having a 
maiden with them whom he seems to suspect they had 
stolen — not this one, certainly, for the date under 
which he wrote was before her disappearance. 

Thus has an attempt been made to reduce to some 
form the old traditions concerning the Dungeon Rock 
which have long been floating disconnectedly around, 
and which could hardly with propriety be omitted in a 
work of the scope of the present volume. The narration 
well illustrates certain mental conceptions prevalent 
among the settlers and the condition of some things at 
that time. Traditions are by no means to be despised, 
and we have been impelled by a sense of duty to give 
one here and there when it seemed to be the best 
means of elucidation. A shrewd old writer observes, 
" Written learning is a fixed luminary, which, after the 
cloud that has hidden it has passed away, is again 
S* 



442 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

bright in its proper station. Tradition is but a meteor, 
which, if it falls cannot be rekindled." 

Among the occasional visitors at the Anchor was 
David Kimkshamooshaw, a full-blooded Indian, and one 
whose ancestors had been among the rulers of the 
country for many generations. He was a grandson of 
Wenepoykin, called also Sagamore George No-Nose, 
whose father was the famous Nanapashemct, or the 
New Moon, who was one of the principal chiefs of the 
New England tribes, his jurisdiction extending eastward 
from Charles river to the Piscataqua. Sagamore Hill, 
which lies between Beach and Nahant streets, in Lynn, 
derived its name from Montowampate who had his 
habitation there, when Sagamore of Lynn. He was an 
elder brother of David Kunkshamooshaw, the visitor at 
the Anchor, and at his decease the dignity of the race 
seems to have begun rapidly to decline. The "deed 
of confirmation, ratification and alienation," given in 
1686 by the heirs of Sagamore George No-Nose to the 
selectmen of Lynn, of all the lands within the jurisdic- 
tion, bears the name of David and his wife. 

At the time of which we speak David Kunkshamoo- 
shaw was somewhat advanced in years. He was nat- 
urally shrewd, of an inquisitive turn of mind, and much 
inclined to adopt the customs and imitate the habits 
of his white neighbors so far as he found them consist- 
ent with the airy freedom of the semi-nomad. In person 
he was tall, erect, and not overburdened with flesh, but 
full of vigor and capable of great endurance. 

His habitation was one of the better sort for an 
Indian, and stood on the northern slope of what has 
since been known as Second Pine Hill ; the untidy 
premises, comprising a little garden and a few stunted 



DAVID KUNKSHAMOOSHAW. 443 

fruit trees, occupying a part of the very space now filled 
by the City Reservoir. An enormous red-cedar, a short 
distance off, and standing almost on the crest of Reser- 
voir Hill formed an unerring guide to the premises. 
When the writer, in boyhood, drove a cow to pasture 
thereabout, that ancient forest relic was still standing, 
and known as the " Old Indian." Its bleached and 
lordly head towered above all the trees upon the hill, 
and was a marked object, as seen from the town. It 
must have stood there for centuries, looking forth over 
the blue waters of the bay long before they were dis- 
turbed by the keel of the adventurous Mayflower ; 
and as the tradition ran was for generations a guide for 
the Indian skiffs that skimmed about the bay. When 
the ax of the woodsman laid it low it seemed as if the 
last link that bound together our dispensation and that 
of the red man had been severed. 

David, as we shall hereafter call him, without adding 
his more awkward though legitimate name of Kunksha- 
mooshaw, was skilled in the few simple arts of his race, 
and in his intercourse with the whites had picked up 
so many odds and ends of better knowledge that he had 
become quite an oracle among his own people. And 
amGi:'g his white neighbors he had such a reputation for 
skill in the use of herbs and simple medicinal prepara- 
tions, and for practical knowledge of the most valuable 
botanical productions of the meadows and woods, as to 
ensure him a sort- of respect wherever he appeared. 
But above all, and what gave him consideration among 
both whites and Indians, was his expertness in the use 
of all kinds of charms and sorceries. In the practice 
of the latter class of accomplishments he travelled about 
a good deal and was sometimes called to visit distant 
tribes. The renowned King Philip once entertained 



444 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

him at his Mount Hope "retreat. But he went there 
more for a conference on political matters than to exer- 
cise his occult arts. 

To the landlord of the Anchor David was not always 
entirely welcome, for the rude fellows about there some- 
times taunted and joked him till his patience was ex- 
hausted, and his native temper so fired that in the 
violence of his exasperation his assailants were in great 
danger of gaining sore heads if not broken limbs. One 
night, for instance, in the bar-room, for some real or 
fancied injury offered by Joel Dunn, he seized him by 
the hair of the head and the knee-tie of his leather small- 
clothes, exclaiming, " What for you try plague great 
man Injan — me make back-log of you!" and before 
he could be restrained had thrust poor Joel so far into 
the roaring fire upon the hearth that the pitch with 
which his garment was besmeared actually took fire, 
and he came near broiling to death. This is, perhaps, 
a sufficient introduction of David, who is to figure in 
a transaction presently to be related, as well as on one 
or two other interesting occasions. 

All along, from quite early times, stories about the 
burial of money here and there upon the coast or in the 
woods were current, and as such stories always gain 
credence with a certain class of minds, many attempts 
were made to discover the hidden treasure. The alleged 
lodgement of pirates, near Saugus river, gave a new 
interest to the tales, and treasure-seeking expeditions 
were repeatedly formed. The services of David were 
usually in requisition on these important occasions, for 
besides his other eminent qualifications he was an 
expert in the use of the witch-hazel rods, without which 
nothing could be done ; and he was likewise an adept 
in directing the work of the diggers. 



PINES POINT. 445 

From the little grassy knoll at the southeast of the 
Anchor a fine landscape and marine view could be had. 
And one of the attractive features was the long sandy 
stretch now known as Revere Beach, through which 
the narrow-gauge rail-road from Boston to Lynn passes. 
Many trees grew along the inland margin, and during 
heavy storms added their rushing accompaniment to 
the deeper roar of the waves. At the eastern extremity 
quite a patch of forest appeared ; the same that in an 
attenuated form still meets the eye of the traveller as 
he glides along in the car. This wooded extremity 
has from time immemorial been known as Pines Point. 
There was a rude little hut here, at the time of which 
we speak, erected for the occasional shelter of those 
who worked about the marshes, and also to afford 
some conveniences for such fishermen as might by 
stress of weather or other misfortune be compelled to 
run ashore there. But this primitive erection disap- 
peared many years ago. 

This romantic vicinity, too, was the scene of many 
a convivial party from the settlement — parties some- 
what of the character of the " pic-nic " of the present 
day, but of a rather ruder type, degenerating, it may 
be, especially when no females were present, into drink^ 
ing and riotous gatherings resembling in some degree 
the old English drinking-bouts. They usually went 
over in boats, though for the timid ones, old dobin was 
put in harness and driven round through Winnisimit ; . 
a long and hard ride, particularly if the tide happened 
to be so high that they were obliged to drive on the 
ridge of the beach. Plenty offish could be caught just 
off the shore, and lobsters and clams were abundant. 
Excellent bass so abounded as to give the name Bass 
Point to the angle of Nahant that juts out near the 



44^ THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

opposite side of the channel. With these products of 
the sea and the various small stores brought over in the 
boats, a most savory banquet could be prepared ; the 
necessary fires being kept up from the stores of drift 
wood and dry branches always at hand. 

There were many floating stories about money being 
buried in this section ; stories which naturally enough 
received auriferous coloring from the fact that the 
anchorage of the piratical craft alluded to in these pages 
must have been very near. Rounding the western point 
of Nahant, in their brigantine, the knaves no doubt 
dropped anchor near the mouth of Saugus river, just 
off Pines Point. And after anchoring, as the tradition 
runs, a boat was lowered and rowed up the river towards 
the Glen. Night shut in and nothing more was ever 
seen of the brigantine or the boat, by the villagers. It 
was however, but a few days after, that it was ascertained 
that the outlaws were revelling in the Glen. 

But to return to the money-digging enterprise. Du- 
ring the discussions in the Anchor bar-room, the subject 
was, almost as a matter of course, frequently brought 
up. And some, those of the rougher sort especially, 
were zealous to improve their pecuniary condition by 
securing a share of the hidden treasure. Discussion 
finally ripened into action. A party was formed to go 
over to the Point, on a certain night, suitably equipped 
for a workmanlike exploration. The settlement of de- 
tails occupied so much time that it was midnight when 
the party were prepared to disperse. A stimulating 
round at the bar was taken in assurance of good-faith 
and " honor bright," and the door swung open. But just 
as the foremost ones stepped over the sill they were 
startled by seeing the stalwart form of a man arise from 



MONEY DIGGERS, 44/ 

a crouching position beneath the window, which had a 
broken pane or two. A momentary ray from the light 
fell on his face, which bore a thick grizzly beard, that 
did something towards concealing the savage grin that 
played about his mouth. His torn hat was pressed low 
upon his forehead, and almost the whole of the rest of 
his person was wrapped in a long gray coat, coarse, 
ragged and besmeared. He was evidently taken by 
surprise, and endeavored as far as possible to avoid 
observation. Without uttering a word, he hastily fled 
towards the woods, whither no one was inclined to fol- 
low him. 

The night agreed upon for the prosecution of the 
money-digging enterprise arrived, and the company as- 
sembled at the Anchor in due season, first to fortify 
themselves at the bar and then to proceed to business. 
Without wasting time they shouldered their tools and 
moved for the point of embarkation. The services of 
David, our red friend, were of course in requisition. 
He was in good spirits and appeared armed with his 
hazel rods and charm-pot. 

It was a beautiful moonlight night, and hardly a 
breath of air disturbed the water. The very fishes 
seemed to express their enjoyment of the placid scene 
in leaps above and antics below the surface. They rowed 
with a will, and the boat soon reached a convenient 
landing place. After taking a prolonged pull at the keg 
they proceeded to their work. The action of the hazel 
rods in the hands of David was lively and satisfactory 
in the extreme ; and that worthy soon pointed out the 
very sod beneath which reposed an untold amount of 
treasure. Then he proceeded with his incantations in 
the most approved order. Kindling a little fire of 
witch-hazel bark, he placed his charm-pot over it, and 



448 ■ THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

when the mysterious liquid exuding from the ingredients 
first put in began to simmer, he threw in a little toad, 
an owl's foot, a snake's tongue, some bits of rosemary 
and some dragon-root. Then he solemnly paced around 
the seething mass, uttering, in a mumbling chant, some 
of those long, zig-zaging words, entirely unpronounceable 
by English tongues and unmeaning to English ears. He 
then enlarged the circle of his ambulation till all the 
space over which the charm was to extend was included. 
Having thus laid out the ground, he dipped his hazel 
wand into the boiling pot, and drew it rapidly along the 
line ; several times repeating the operation, to be sure 
that no inch of ground was missed. This being accom- 
plished, the company were gathered in and solemnly 
warned not to set foot beyond the circle, on peril of 
their lives, as hosts of evil spirits would be hovering 
round the moment ground was broken. He also charged 
them not to utter a single word, even in whisper, for 
if they did, their whole labor would in a moment come 
to naught, though by keeping within the ring they might 
escape bodily harm. The keg was once more passed 
from mouth to mouth and then carefully deposited near 
the charm-pot, which had now ceased to send forth any 
vapor. 

A motion was then made for the work to commence ; 
and vigorous was the attack on the stubborn soil. It 
was not long before the ringing sound so welcome to 
the expectant ear of the money-digger was heard by 
them. In joyous excitement their eyes glistened in the 
moonbeams, but they wrought on in silence. Once in a 
while David would perambulate the extreme of the circle, 
gesticulating as if in defiance of the evil spirits kept at 
bay by his charms, but of course uttering no word. 

In due time they came upon the traditionary flat 



MONEY DIGGERS. 449 

rock that covered the treasure chest ; and just as they 
began working around it, there came a tremendous gust 
of wind sweeping down over the beach with such fury 
as to set every thing moveable flying about their heads, 
and filling the air v/ith sharp, gritty sand. Only one 
gust came but that was so appalling that the work 
instantly ceased and they stood glaring on each other 
in mute terror, till David, having with hasty strides 
perambulated the circle, returned to his post near the 
charm-pot and motioned them to proceed. A long, 
stout lever was adjusted, and they were just giving 
a vigorous heave at the stone, when an astounding 
neigh, as if of a horse on the very border the circle, 
rang in their ears and echoed away over on the cliffs 
of Nahant. It was so frightful that every arm was un- 
nerved and the lever dropped. They stared around in 
the direction whence the unearthly sound seemed to 
proceed, but no living creature was to be seen. The 
air was calm and the trees were as noiseless as their 
shadows which the moonlight so sharply cut. There 
they stood, agast and trembling. But David, having 
previously had some experience in such expeditions, 
was in a measure able to meet the em.ergency. He 
replenished the izharm-pot and again perambulated the 
lines ; and every thing appearing to be safe, he made a 
motion for the diggers to renew their work. Once 
more the ponderous lever was in place to raise the 
stone beneath which lay the treasure-chest, and for 
some minutes the work went bravely on, though the 
entanglements of some stubborn old tree roots would 
probably have induced a profane expression now and 
then had it not happily been for the interdiction of all 
speech. But finally all obstacles were seemingly over- 
come, and their hopes just on the verge of fruition. 

29 



450 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

A lantern was lowered, and eager eyes actually dis- 
cerned what they doubted not was a corner of the iron 
chest ; and the clink of the bar added the testimony 
of their cars. With a will they bore dowrt on the lever, 
and the ponderous stone began to move upward. But — 

At that critical moment, there came another awful 
gust of wind ; but this time over the water, saturating 
their clothing with salt spray, almost blinding them, and 
setting every thing whirling again. Then was heard the 
heavy tread of a rapidly advancing horse. On, on, he 
dashed, in headlong fury, out into the moonlight — a 
gigantic courser, with flaring tail erect and long mane 
waving and curling in the breeze ; snorting and pran- 
cing in the most threatening manner. Astride his back, 
without saddle or bridle, hatless and with hair streaming 
in lank locks about his shoulders, sat a man of giant form 
and graceless mien, a hideous grin playing about his 
toothless mouth. On, on, he rushed, with unabated 
fury, directly towards the petrified group. But the in- 
stant he reached the charmed circle his progress was 
arrested. Not a hoof could pass the. magic bound ; the 
desperate roarings, plungings and snortings of the horse 
nor the fiery glaring and spurring of the rider could avail. 
But in that alarming attitude of aflairs. the affrighted 
diggers could not continue their work, and the tools 
fell from their paralysed hands. Things remained thus 
for some minutes ; and then began a frantic race around 
the circle, the distance narrowing at every turn. Just 
on the verge, the furious beast wheeled and reared and 
plunged as if determined to dash across in spite of fate 
itself. David now, for the first time, showed signs of 
terror. With flashing eyes and hissing breath the fiery 
steed poised himself on his hind feet, while his rider, in 
stentorian voice vociferated : 



MONEY DIGGERS. ^Bj, 

" By my blood what do ye here ? ye are well set to 
work, filching my gold, hard earned upon the sea by 
dagger and by fire. But the devil will yet save his own, 
I wot. Aroynt ye, or bear a pirate's malediction ! " 

The ponderous hoofs were quivering almost directly 
over the head of David, who had stepped forth to see 
that there was no break in the ring, when, thrown sud- 
denly off his guard, with trembling lips he gave utter- 
ance to a propitiatory ejaculation in these imploring 
words of his euphonious native tongue — ahquontama- 
unnean nummatcheseongask ; pohquohwussinnean. 

In an instant, down came the hoofs, almost upon his 
head ; and then rang the exulting laugh of the rider out 
over the sea ; and the wild neigh of the horse was louder 
still. The spell was broken and there was no longer a 
charm-protected bound. They pranced within the^ing 
without restraint ; the stone fell back over the chest ; 
the affrighted diggers scattered for dear life. 

The triumphant horse and his rider, having accom- 
plished their purpose, sped off among the trees^the one 
whmnying and the other laughing till the old woods 
resounded with the weird clamor. 

When the balked diggers had sufficiently recovered 
to confer together on their sudden and sad defeat, David 
had disappeared, not to be seen again in the settlement 
for half a year. It was apparent, that it would be useless 
to make any further attempt that night ; and no one, 
indeed,,had the spirit to propose any thing leading to 
that end. There appeared to have been no serious 
injury to any one, and they soon in silence gathered up 
their tools and proceeded to embark for home. They 
were not jolly over the result of the expedition, in a 
pecuniary way; and the temper in which they met the 
jokes and jeers of their fellow- villagers may be imagined 



452 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

Whether any subsequent attempt was made to ex- 
hume the treasure-chest, which some of them declared 
they had seen with their own eyes, is not known. But 
it is fair to conclude that had treasure ever been found 
there the fact would have been recorded in history. 

Our old friend Joel Dunn will now make his final 
appearance in our little drama. It seems by the quaint 
old writer's jottings that Joel's wonderful experience on 
the dreadful night of the earthquake wrought in him 
an extraordinary reformation. From an abandoned to- 
per he suddenly assumed rigidly temperate habits, ac- 
cording to the idea of the time. He was still employed 
more or less about the Anchor ; but all the threats and 
persuasions of the jovial landlord could not induce him 
to dispense one drop more of the fiery stimulant which 
the court license allowed and in some instances en- 
joined. No persuasions of the modish traveller in the 
parlor or of the gruff lounger at the bar could induce a 
breach over his principles. It must not be concluded, 
however, that malt liquors and certain other drinks, 
more or less stimulating, brewed from herbs and roots, 
were among the things proscribed by his awakened 
conscience. O, no ; temperance ideas did not attain to 
that high standard till generations after. Tea and coffee 
were not then in use hereabout, and something beyond 
spring water must be had to supply the cravings of the 
natural appetite. Many such indulgencies were under 
a sort of half-way covenant — an expression which had 
a peculiar charm to our pious ancestors. 

It is proposed now to show in what a tragic manner 
the eventful life of Joel was brought to a close, and how 
far rum, good Barbadoes rum, was concerned in the 
singular catastrophe. 



DEATH OF JOEL DUNN. 453 

Bearing in mind the fact that Captain Marshall was 
a military man, and had borne such an active and as he 
claimed conspicuous part in the civil wars, it will readily 
be conceived that he highly enjoyed the training days 
of the colonial soldiery. Indeed he sometimes travelled 
to Boston to witness a monthly parade ; and never 
failed to be present on a field day of the famous organic 
zation known at this day as the Ancient and Honorable 
Artillery. 

On the parade days of the local train-bands he was 
in high spirits ; and sometimes invited them to the 
Anchor, for exercise on the green that stretched off in 
a westerly direction. His jolly heart would overflow on 
such occasions ; the rank and file were treated to the 
best malt liquors the cellar afforded, and the officers 
to something more decidedly stimulating, till tongues 
were loosened and not unfrequently fistic encounters 
engaged in. He would sometimes, under the inspiration 
of the moment, seize the sword of the commander, and 
proudly poising himself on a protruding rock order the 
ranks to file in review before him, giving orders in 
Cromwellian voice and style, and proclaiming the strat- 
egy by which the battle-field is won. Never has the 
delightful village of Saugus been so stirred as on these 
occasions. 

An unusually grand parade was to take place on a 
certain summer day, and troops from Salem and Boston 
were to take part in the evolutions. The hospitable 
doors of the Anchor were to open to some of the chief 
colonial dignitaries, and great were the preparations. 
A whole pipe of Barbadoes rum had been bespoken — 
but how many poor Indian slaves the importer had sent 
out in exchange for it it is fruitless now to inquire — and 
sojn after the shades of the evening preceding the great 



454 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

day began to prevail, the creaking wheels of the weary 
jogging team bearing the precious freight, was heard 
away off on the Boston road. In due time it arrived 
and was drawn up on the little hill just east of the 
house, the wheels carefully chocked, and the cattle taken 
to the barn. There it remained, an object of peculiar 
interest to the frequenters of the place as they passed 
in and out. But it grew late and all became quiet. 
The night was cloudy and dark. 

Joel had been over from his cottage to assist in the 
preparations for the coming day and as he went across 
the yard towards his home a ray from his lantern was 
thrown upon the cask so unconcernedly resting on the 
hill. A sort of inspiration seized him. He seemed 
with the eye of a seer to look forward into the scenes 
of the coming day — scenes of drunkenness and rioting 
such as he now abhorred. He thought he saw evil 
spirits gambolling about their hoop-bound home and 
blue flames playing around. A lively apprehension of 
what his duty was and a sturdy determination to do it 
impelled him to immediate action. Placing his lantern 
in such a position that it could cast no betraying ray, 
he seized the iron bar with which he had been working 
and stealthily creeping up to the old dray on which the 
doomed enemy was resting, without a moment's pause 
dealt vigorous blows upon the wheel-chocks, till one 
by one they were dislodged, and down started dray and 
cask with the speed and force of a launching ship, 
tearing along furiously and more furiously as the descent 
increased. The cask and the dray soon parted company, 
and the former, bouncing over all impediments, quickly 
gained the salt creek below. The hoops were loosened 
in the rough transit and the head fell out just as the 
water was reached. The dray came lumbering along 



TRAVELLING DOCTORS. 455 

after, at a speed it had never before dreamed of attaining. 
But poor Joel, where was he ? Alas, the victim of zeal 
in a good cause. He was struck by the dray and borne 
down in such a manner that his head fell under a wheel 
and he was so dreadfully crushed that in a few hours 
he breathed his last. 

Irregular practice in the healing art came under the 
notice of the Court at a very early day. Travelling 
doctors were drifting about in all directions, and the 
good people were constantly exposed to dangerous im- 
positions. On the Court records we find this entry : 

" Nich : Knopp is fyned v/. for takeing vpon him to 
cure the scurvey by a water of noe worth nor value, 
which he solde att a very deare rate ; to be imprisoned 
till hee pay his fifine, or giue securitye for it, or els to be 
whipped, & shalbe lyable to any mans accon of whome 
hee hath receaued money for the s^ water." 

That was scurvy business for one to be engaged in. 
But it is fair to infer that the concoction was not posi- 
tively injurious, the misdemeanor lying rather in obtain- 
ing money under false pretenses. And if it could be 
said of many of the preparations which at this day are 
so ostentatiously put before the public as specifics, that 
they are harmless, their makers would be less deserving 
of condemnation. 

Little is known of Mr. Knopp, but so far as appears 
he got into the world in some under-hand way, though 
that was not his fault ; and it makes but little difference 
how one gets here, provided he behaves himself while 
here and leaves in no discreditable way. His life was 
not a successful and to all appearance not a happy one, 
for he was of that jealous, grumbling turn, that made 
him obnoxious to all with whom he came in contact, 



456 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

and the very atmosphere in which he moved chilling 
and uncomfortable. With him the wind was always 
east. He was continually complaining of being " put 
upon," and had not power to meet the inevitable ills of 
life with common courage. Such persons are to be 
pittied, though they ought to form better habits. 

Notwithstanding he was dealt with as above, and was 
subsequently subjected to other penalties, he long con- 
tinued his practice, and during the time Mr. Armitage 
remained landlord of the Anchor made monthly visits 
to the settlement, having his head quarters at that 
house. When here, he made long excursions in the 
woods, to gather herbs and roots, to work up on his 
return home. 

It happened, during one of his professional visits, that 
the Governor, being on an eastern tour, had stopped for 
the night at the Anchor, and owing to excessive fatigue, 
for he had journeyed a-foot, and the day was warm, or 
perhaps from some other predisposing cause, he was 
taken violently ill soon after retiring. Doctor Knopp 
was of course instantly summoned. After an examina- 
tion, he really had little conception of what treatment 
the case demanded, but looked wise, and his diagnosis 
was sufficiently unintelligible to confound all present — 
much as some doctors of the present day do when 
puzzled. Something, however, it was very evident, 
must speedily be done, or the gubernatorial chair would 
be vacant, and flustrated by the dignity of his patient 
and the necessity of instant action, he seized the pack- 
age of that day's gathering, and handed the maid a 
handful for steeping. A decoction was soon prepared 
and a portion administered by the cautious attendant. 
The pain had in the mean time considerably abated, 
and the Governor sank into a quiet doze. Not long 



TRAVELLING DOCTORS. 457 

after, however, he rose up, and with the ejaculation 
" beautiful ! " began to giggle, in a very undignified 
manner. Then he threw up the clothes and declared 
that every thing was lovely ; that he was light as a 
feather, and thought he should " go up." He slapped 
his sides and laughed till heard all over the house. 
The inmates were aroused, and hastening to the cham- 
ber, found his excellency sitting on the side of the bed, 
disrobed as he was on retiring, staring about as if wit- 
nessing a grand show, laughing and reiterating the 
information that something was " beautiful." 

It was apparent that his faculties were straying, and 
naturally enough concluded that there had been some 
mistake in the medicine. The doctor seemed really 
alarmed and at once ordered an emetic, well knowing 
that to be at least a safe resort in most cases of doubt 
and emergency. No time was lost in preparing the 
stomach-disturbing draught and requesting the patient 
to immediately quaff the same. " Take a puke, is it ? " 
said he, with a nod and wink, " yes, yes, to be sure ; 
a dozen, if that jolly old doctor says so." One sip was 
taken ; then a glance at the wall and the ejaculation 
" beautiful ! " then down went the whole at a single gulp, 
meeting nothing in the way but the once more ascend- 
ing word " beautiful." The quick emetic performed its 
duty fearlessly and thoroughly ; and presently the docile 
patient was lost in a quiet sleep. 

By the next day things had got round about right 
with the Governor. He did not appear to have any 
recollection of what occurred during his hallucination, 
and of course no one had the impoliteness to refer to it. 
In his weakened condition, however, it was not thought 
prudent for him to proceed on his journey, and the 
Anchor rejoiced in his presence another day. Doctor 
T 



458 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

Knopp disappeared before sunrise, without demanding 
pay for his eminent services. 

It is probable that the " beautiful " medicine was a 
decoction of the leaves of some plant of the night-shade 
family — not unlikely thorn-apple, which though poison- 
ous was much used by the old herb doctors and is 
indeed in repute among regular physicians at the present 
day. The effect is not always the same on different 
persons. The writer has known a case very much like 
that of the Governor. 

Whether a complaint was ever made against Doctor 
Knopp, for mal-practice in this instance, is not known. 
Undoubtedly he made a mistake in the plant when he 
handed out the leaves with the direction to " steep." 
And it is not certain that the Governor ever knew much 
about what really did take place during the night of his 
" beautiful " visions. It was reported that the doctor 
finally lost his life by an over-dose of his own medicine. 

It will not be considered out of place in this connec- 
tion to say a few words concerning the lady-like Mrs. 
Hawkins who was well known about the Plantation in 
its early days. By the records of the Court, we find 
her thus taken in hand : 

"Jane Hawkins, the wife of RiclVd Hawkins, had 
liberty till the beginning of the third mo., called May, 
& the magistrates (if shce did not depart before) to 
dispose of her ; & in the meane time shee is not to 
meddle in surgery, or phisick, drinks, plaisters, or oylcs, 
nor to question matters of religion, except w"' the elders 
for satisfaction." 

Mrs. Hawkins was a woman of some education and 
great energy of character ; was the mother of a fond 
family and led a good moral life. Her errors were 



TRAVELLING DOCTORS. '4§g 

rather of doctrine than practice and related more to 
rehgion than to physics. 

At a very early period antinomian doctrines began to 
disturb the churches, and, singularly enough, some of 
the most able disseminators were women. Mrs. Haw- 
kins was one of them ; and in her zeal she ran into rank 
familism. As just remarked, she does not appear to 
have herself been addicted to any particular vices, 
though her teachings were of the broadest free-love cha- 
racter. 

It seems at first sight quite unaccountable that under 
the rigid requirements of those days in religious faith 
and practice, such inroads should have been made by 
this class of new-lights. But yet, when it is considered 
how naturally a mind, receiving with full force the doc- 
trine of arbitrary election, might come to the conclusion 
that personal conduct would have nothing to do with 
ultimate fate, it will be perceived how all limitation 
would soon be erased. The churches, in their troubles, 
of course appealed to the Court, as a sort of judicial 
adjunct ; and among the proceedings, for many years, 
are to be found evidence of their efforts to protect the 
established faith. 

Mrs. Hawkins was on familiar terms with the cele- 
brated Mrs. Hutchinson, and the elders were greatly 
exercised, in the fear that the young women, especially, 
might become indoctrinated. And there was some 
ground for suspicion as to the purity of her designs, 
in the fact of her having some kind of a preparation, 
bewitching to the village maidens especially, called a 
" love medicine," reputed to be potent in affairs of the 
heart. This certainly was a piece of quackery very 
detrimental to her reputation. And it is hardly con- 
ceivable that so strong-minded and intelligent a woman 



460 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

as she appears to have been, should have allowed her- 
self to thus trifle, and become an object of reasonable 
suspicion. There were, indeed, other damaging rumors 
about her practising witchcraft as well as medicine ; 
and it was positively asserted that she had " much 
familiarity with the devil, in England, when she dwelt 
at St. Ives's." She was also called a fortune-teller. 

There was a story about her having a familiar spirit 
who attended her, especially at night, in the shape of a 
cat, sometimes assuming one color, at other times an- 
other. Some of the good people declared that they 
had thrown stones at it, when so near that they were 
sure it must have been hit, but without the slightest 
effect. One man said he got near enough to whack it 
with his walking stick, but he seemed only to beat the 
air. Another man said that when passing along the 
road by the river, one night, he met the lady walking 
hastily towards Nanny Burrill's cottage, and a couple 
of rods behind was the cat sitting on a stone, washing 
her face with her paw. He at once concluded that she 
was washing up to attend the meeting at Nanny's ; but 
thought he would at once spoil that business. Having 
his loaded gun with him, he got behind a bush, and with 
the muzzle within three or four inches of the cat's head, 
fired. He was sure the shot hit her, but she took not 
the least notice of the discharge, finished her toilet, and 
deliberately walked off before he had recovered from his 
astonishment and had time to reload. But the experi- 
ence of one of the grave magistrates was the most 
mortifying. He had made up his mind that he would 
"look after the diabolical plotters." Accordingly he 
one night took it upon him to follow Mrs. Hawkins. 
Not discovering any thing, after a long tramp, he began 
to imagine that his own awful presence had prompted 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 46 1 

the familiar spirit to remain invisible. But just then, 
on turning a point of woods, he stepped almost upon 
what he at once supposed to be the dreaded object. In 
an instant, the cudgel with which he was armed flew 
up, and then like lightning down upon the beast. But 
he was not quick enough to prevent the whisking up 
of a bushy tail, and the shedding forth of a perfume 
that for a time took away his very breath. An hour 
afterwards, the searcher after the " diabolical plotters " 
was seen in his garden, by the light of a lantern burying 
certain garments. 

Mrs. Hawkins always protested that her reputation 
suffered more from the " malice of the elders," than 
from any misconduct of her own. Her visits to our 
Plantation resulted in a number of conversions ; but 
after her banishment, with few exceptions they fell away. 
The sentence of banishment was in these terms : 

"Jane Hawkins is enjoyned to depart away to morrow 
morning & not to returne againe hither, upon paine 
of severe whiping & such other punishment as the 
Court shall thinke meete ; & her sonnes stand bound 
in 20/. to carry her away according to order." 

Mrs. Hawkins's career very well illustrates that of a 
number of able women of the period. 

On the seventeenth of June, 1879, the most interest- 
ing celebration, perhaps, that ever occurred within the 
borders of the old Third Plantation, took place in Lynn. 
It was the celebration of the two hundred and fiftieth 
anniversary of the first settlement. This is not the 
place for the introduction of details of the proceedings 
on that notable occasion, and it is alluded to chiefly on 
account of the opportunity to qualify the almost univer- 
sally received opinion that it was the first event of the 



462 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

kind ever transpiring here. But the old manuscript 
shows that the first "jubilee of years" was celebrated 
in grand style, for those times, and that the Anchor 
Tavern was the scene of the " banquet." 

And the year 1679 "^^^ marked not only as that on 
which the first half century of the years of Lynn was 
completed, but also by the sadder event of the death 
of the Rev. Samuel Whiting, in compliment to whom 
the very name of the place was bestowed. 

All will agree that some account of this early cele- 
bration should be preserved, in as tangible a form as 
possible. And perhaps the writer will be thanked for 
proceeding in his poor way to present a few of the inci- 
dents, arranged in as good order as the information, 
derived from various sources, will allow. 

The bright morning was ushered in by sundry dis- 
charges from the little old Dutch cannon stationed on 
Sadler's Rock ; but no church bells sent forth their 
sunrise greetings, for the simple reason that there were 
no such " engines of sound " within the municipal bor- 
ders. The early riser, by stationing himself on some 
elevation, might have seen here and there wreaths 
of illuminated smoke lazily ascending above the trees, 
and marking the spots where, during the night, the 
animating bonfire had blazed. 

By the time the tops of the giant pines, under the 
smiles of the rising sun, had donned their robes of gold- 
en green, the people of every neighborhood were astir. 
But the cock's shrill clarion was hardly heard within 
the borders of the Plantation ; sad silence ; to be ex- 
plained by the bustling cook-maid. Poor chanticleer! 
when he looked around upon his reduced family, he had 
no heart to lift up his voice, on the jubilant occasion ; 
his kindred and friends had literally gone to pot and spit. 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 463,. 

There was a grand procession, headed by the train- 
band, with their ponderous muskets and bandoleers, 
each almost staggering under the weight of an enormous 
bear-skin cap, surmounted by a waving eagle feather. 
Then there were representatives of different trades, 
each with some implement of his vocation conspicuously 
displayed ; and fishermen, farmers, and all such as were 
ready to undergo the fatigue of a somewhat extended 
march. But perhaps the most interesting feature was 
the Indian section, which comprised representatives, 
young and old, from various tribes, all seeming to regard 
the affair as belonging to the red men as much as to 
the whites. Many of them carried implements of the 
chase, others domestic utensils, others again war-clubs, 
tomahawks, or bows and arrows. Some wore beautiful 
feather mantles, and some were decorated profusely 
with strings of wampum. 

The military had as good music as could be procured, 
the Giarm and nfe being the chief instruments, though a 
battered speaking-trumpet, which had some years before 
been lost overboard from, a vessel and picked up on the 
beach, now and then sent forth a tempestuous note. 
The Indians were content with nothing but their native 
drums and conch-shell horns. And on the whole the 
combined music was rather unique than euphonic ; 
especially as now and then during the march the roguish 
young savages would halt and set up such a terrific 
war-whoop as would ring over the hills and echo off in 
the woods, as if defiant warriors were assembling from 
all directions. 

The Indians likewise insisted on taking along with 
them sundry pets to partake of the enjoyments — two 
interesting little bear cubs, a bald eagle, an owl, an 
enormous tortoise, captured in Tomlins's Swamp by a 



464 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

little squaw, the dusky maiden herself accompanying 
her pet ; together with a variety of frisky snakes. 

In the afternoon, chiefly in the vicinity of the Anchor, 
for there, towards the close of day, the banquet was to 
be held, were trials of skill among the young men, in 
wrestling, running, and rowing in canoes on the river. 
In these contests the young Indians were almost always 
the winners, laughing at the awkwardness of their com- 
petitors and calling them squaws, which in several cases 
gave so much offense that it required the interference 
of Captain Marshall, with his parliamentary sword and 
resolute brow, to prevent serious quarrels. 

The Indian boys, too, did something to add to the 
round of entertainment, by showing their skill in the 
use of the bow and arrow, jumping, climbing, and 
other sinewy exercises. Even the Indian girls endea- 
vored to do something to add zest to the occasion, by 
exhibiting some of the florid and almost wanton sports 
of their woodland life ; a few of the elder ones, however, 
devoting themselves to the preparation, after their native 
style, of various dishes for the feast. And they received 
satisfactory reward in the commendation of the super- 
visors of the repast. 

But let us now come to the " banquet," which by 
those ordained to partake, was, no doubt, regarded as 
the chief feature of the day. 

The sun had already turned downward from his meri- 
dian height when the company filed into the long, low 
back room of the Anchor, which answered as a dining 
hall as well as kitchen — so low, indeed, that the taller 
ones were obliged to bow their heads to escape knocks 
against sundry glistening utensils and garden products 
that depended from the rafters. 

Captain Marshall was a good provider, and on the 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 465 

table appeared game from the forest and fish from the 
sea, as well as fresh supplies from the piggery and the 
barnyard ; and of the products of the vegetable garden 
and the orchard there was an abundance. Some savory 
dishes had been contributed by neighboring townspeople 
and divers Indian matrons had sent in specimens of 
their achievement in the culinary art. Altogether, as 
Mr. Laighton, the town clerk, unctuously declared, there 
never had been so " deluding " — alluring, he must have 
meant — a feast spread from that time back to the day 
when the Plantation began. " No," added Goodman 
Tarbox, " nor will there be another equal to it, till the 
very airth goes topsy-turvy — you see if there is, Master 
Laighton." Unfortunately, neither he nor Mr. Laighton 
was able to appear at the banquet in 1879, to settle the 
question by comparison, up to that time. 

As Mr. Tarbox took a view over his great round- 
glassed spectacles down the table his eye fell on Matthew 
Stanley who interposed the remark, in a testy tone, that 
if it were prophesying time he too would predict that in 
two hundred years.there would be more people, by hun- 
dreds, in Lynn, and many new and grand things. There 
might even be a mayor and aldermen and council-men — 
a great borough, perhaps, or a city with a city hall. And 
then, when the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary 
came round, if it ever did come, would they not want to 
have a banquet that would outdo this of the fiftieth, about 
which they might hear — the mayor attending in his 
scarlet robe and the aldermen in their gowns .-' But he 
hoped by that time some people would know more and 
do better than some people he then had in his eye. 
The last sentence was rapped out in a spiteful tone and 
with eye resting point-blank on Mr. Tarbox, who well 
understood what application to make. No cordial feeling 
T* 30 



466 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

had existed between them for many years, their differ- 
ence arising from the fact that Stanley had been com- 
plained of before the court for winning the affections 
of Tarbox's sister without the consent of her parents, as 
the law required, and had been fined five pounds, with 
two shillings and sixpence costs. And believing the 
prosecution was instigated by this brother, with whom 
he had had some difficulty in a trade, he often took 
occasion to show his gentle resentment. However, the 
little exhibition of feeling ended with a harmless inter- 
change of frowns. 

That the banquet was attended by the chief men 
of the settlement there is abundant evidence, though 
social distinctions were then differently marked from 
what they are at present. No doubt the toothsome 
viands were most largely attractive to some, while the 
opportunity for the interchange of congratulations on 
the successes of the past and hopeful anticipations 
of the future operated with others ; while others again, 
unquestionably rejoiced in the opportunity to make a 
spread. 

No one was more kindly or lovingly greeted than the 
Rev. Mr. Whiting, who for more than forty years had 
ministered to the spiritual wants of the people. His 
age was now above four score years, and in addition to 
the common infirmities of old age, he had for months 
been suffering from disease. Though anxious to be 
present he could not have reached the Anchor had not 
the neighbors provided a sort of nondescript vehicle for 
his transport by human hands in a manner to overcome 
the inequalities of the road. He was called upon to 
say grace, though that good old English custom was 
very uncommon in New England at that period, and 
responded with the dignity and fervor for which he was 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 46/ 

remarkable, though his voice could be heard by but a 
few of those nearest him. During the festivity he sat 
in Captain Marshall's great easy-chair, partaking very 
sparingly of the viands, and on the whole rather a quiet 
spectator of the animated scene than a participant. He 
however had encouraging remarks to make, in broken 
sentences, to those about him, and suggestions as to 
the future conduct of affairs ; to which were added, in 
his hopeful way, predictions concerning the future pros- 
perity and distinction of the place for whose good he 
had so long and prayerfully labored. Before the final 
dispersion of the company he was reconveyed to his 
home, in the same gentle manner by which he had been 
brought ; and nothing appears to indicate that he suf- 
fered injury from the excursion, which he evidently 
much enjoyed, though it was not many weeks before he 
was laid in his final resting place, in the Old Burying 
Ground. 

No set speeches, so far as appears, were made at this 
semi-centennial celebration, the whole proceedings being 
rather of the free-and-easy order, each in his own way 
contributing to the entertainment. And is not that a 
way more to be commended than the modern one of 
dampening if not suppressing much of the vivacity and 
cheery expression by set proceedings and formal speech- 
making ? 

Among the others, our Indian friend, David Kunksha- 
mooshaw, was present. He had lighted up the darkness 
of the preceding night, to the dismay of the owls and bats, 
by such a bonfire on the summit of what is now known 
as Reservoir Hill, as was never equalled excepting by 
the Centennial Bonfire there, on the morning of the 



^68 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN, 



fourth of July, 1876, He had perambulated with the 
procession through the whole of its fatiguing march, so 
arrayed in eagle feathers and spoils from humbler winged 
tenants of the forest, that he resembled some gigantic 
bird, in unique plumage, erect and pompous. He had 
taken upon himself to marshal the Indian division, and 
did it with a severity of manner and pomposity that 
was very entertaining to those who enjoyed the ludicrous. 
He would now and then whack a young savage over the 
shoulders, if he lagged, or snake him from the ranks in 
the most violent manner. The young wretches, however, 
did not seem much to fear him or respect his authority. 
At the feasting board he had lain aside only such of his 
trappings as were detrimental to the free exercise of his 
gastronomic functions. 

David seldom forgot the dignity of his descent, and 
was as seldom unmindful of his territorial claims. He 
was an heir of the ancient lords of the soil and had 
never divested himself of inherited rights, whatever they 
were ; but upon that rather important point he had a 
very vague notion. It will be borne in mind that this 
celebration was seven years before he and his co-heirs 
signed the deed relinquishing all their right in the soil 
of Lynn. He had often asserted his claims in terms 
more direct than gentle, and sometimes in decidedly 
offensive ways. In this, he differed from most Indians ; 
for they were generally so careless about territorial 
possessions that they would dispose of almost any tract 
at almost any price ; and it made no sort of difference 
whether they owned it or not, if they could only get the 
pay. Witness the sale of Nahant by Poquanum to Mr. 
Dexter, for a suit of clothes. After the clothes were 
worn out it was found that the wily Indian, at the time 
he sold, had no title to the peninsula. 



FIFTIETH AfJi^IVERSARY. 46^ 

David seemed to ponder a great deal over his claims 
and at times exhibited such a lively apprehension of 
what he deemed his wrongs that it was positively dan- 
gerous to oppose him. His idea appeared to be that 
he had a right in the soil and consequently a right in 
whatever the soil produced — rather natural reasoning, 
perhaps, from the postulate. Instances of his abrupt 
way of enforcing his claims might be given, almost 
without number. 

He was once passing a pumpkin-patch on the river 
bank, and without deigning to salute the man at work 
there, began to select such as he proposed to take as 
his share. The man, not knowing David, interposed 
sharply for the protection of his property. At that, 
the Indian, with no prelude save one of his appalling 
native vociferations hurled one of the pumpkins at the 
head of the other with such force as to knock him 
senseless to the ground ; and before he recovered had 
departed, taking with him such spoil as he could carry. 
David also at one time grievously disturbed the ven- 
erable Mr. Whiting by laying claim to a quantity of cider 
which had been expressed from apples that grew in a:n 
orchard planted on a clearing somewhere near the site 
afterwards occupied by the Old Tunnel Meeting-house. 
The good man, in endeavoring to pacify him, surren- 
dered half a barrel of the liquor ; and a grand carouse 
the red gentry had when the proceeds of the compromise 
arrived at Pine Hill. There was no end to his raids on 
the flower gardens of the village dames, for he delighted 
to strut about with half a dozen red peonies, or purple 
lilacs, or other such showy embellishments nodding in 
his head-band. He continued to chafe and swagger 
about his rights in the land till he received his compen^ 
sation and signed the deed. 



470 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

At the banquet board also appeared Dr. Philip Read, 
the first resident physician in the place. He had just 
made his ornamental appearance in this quarter ; but 
what other portion of the heritage had been left to mourn 
his departure is not known. He was a man of some 
skill and large pretensions in the healing art ; and had 
also acquired a reputation as an exorcisor, or rather a 
discoverer in occult science. He was the same individ- 
ual who, the next year, 1680, complained to the county 
court of Margaret Gifford, as being a witch, asserting 
that " he veril}' believed that she was a witch, for there 
were some things which could not be accounted for by 
natural causes." 

The Doctor was a man of middle age ; but yet, con- 
sidering the wrinkled and cadaverous appearance of his 
countenance and the attenuated condition of his whole 
physique one would surely conclude that he would never 
again see his hundredth year. He was small in stature, 
and usually, on great occasions like the one now under 
notice, arrayed himself in a manner more remarkable 
than befitting. Leather small-clothes and blue leggins 
with glistening brass buckles at the knees, and large, 
thick shoes of uncurried leather constituted the livery 
of his nether person. Above, appeared a doublet of 
green woolen, with red stripes, and over that a sort 
of coatee with an enormous turn-over collar. His iron- 
gray hair grew in frowsy tufts, a few locks shyly stray- 
ing down the forehead as if striving to get a peek at the 
little gray eyes that blinked beneath. Very readable 
crow-tracks adorned the temple corners of the eyes ; 
and the whole facial surface together, resembled an 
ancient wrinkled and mildewed parchment, upon which 
father Time had for many years been scribbling his 
hieroglyphics. But the most observable feature about 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY, 47 1 

his whole person was the cue, which hung quietly down 
from the back of his head when the interior was in 
repose. But when the elements within were in activity, 
the orb would suddenly bow forward ; and then the cue 
would stick up in a most extraordinary manner — stiff as 
the handle of a sauce-pan — perhaps from its being so 
tightly wound in its eel-skin covering. 

Well, both David and the Doctor were present at the 
feast ; and it unfortunately happened that they occupied 
places directly opposite each other. They had previ- 
ously had some acquaintance and some quarrels. The 
Doctor had unsparingly denounced David's land claims, 
especially so far as they touched a cleared acre or two 
that he himself had enclosed and planted, insisted that 
the town had been very much " debilitated " by the 
preposterous demands, and once in town meeting advo- 
cated the passage of votes similar to those passed in 
some other settlements, of which the following are 
specimens : Voted, That the earth is the Lord's and the 
fulness thereof Voted, That the earth is given to the 
saints. Voted, That we are the saints. 

And there was another matter of discord between 
them. David's theories about charms and sorceries in 
general were greatly at variance with the Doctor's. 
For instance on the momentous question whether the 
upper or lower lip of a toad should be put into the 
charm-pot when the mystic-ring was formed, they were 
at the very antipodes, though they agreed that if the 
whole toad were put in the end would be answered. 
They also disagreed on that still unsettled question 
whether fresh or dried witch-hazel bark is most effica- 
cious in curing the wounds inflicted by evil spirits. 

Being in such a position at the table that the very 
breath of each might play in the other's face, it was 



472 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

natural enough, perhaps, even on this joyful occasion, 
that the discussions on their undetermined points should 
be renewed whenever there was a brief suspension of 
the engorging exercise. At all events the discussions 
were renewed, and from moderation became warm, and 
from warmth merged into fierceness. They both finally 
rose to their feet, the Indian storming in the best 
English he could command, at the "no witch man 
good, ugh ! steal great man Injan ground, ugh ! match- 
enekuk quengig ! Dam ! " The Doctor on his part be- 
came so enraged that his cue rose perpendicularly, his 
face turning downward as if he were preparing to butt, 
after the fashion of an old ram. The Indian instantly 
saw his opportunity. Quick as lightning the cue was 
in the grasp of his dusky hand, and down went the 
fated head souse into a calabash of smoking clam-broth, 
spattering the unctuous liquor in all directions ; and 
there it was held in spite of all the struggling till the 
interposition of others saved the Doctor from almost 
fatal consequences. 

A great uproar of course succeeded. The poor Doc- 
tor was so horribly scalded that he bore the scars to the 
end of his life. This occurrence formed an episode that 
for a time had a dampening effect on the festivities. 
However, there being a sort of comical side to it, the 
spirit of jollity presently regained the ascendancy. 

Joseph Armitage was likewise of the company, he 
who so many years before had with such credit filled the 
post of landlord of the Anchor, entertaining at times 
the highest colonial officials. After a life of toil, with 
intervals of more than common hardship, he was now 
old and poor, and had for a long time borne a reputation 
for ill-temper and peevishness, though no one charged 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 4^| 

him with moral delinquencies. Indeed his was just 
such a character as might naturally have been formed 
by the circumstances of his career. He had been so 
long subjected to the buffets of fortune and the inhospi- 
talities of the world that when an occasional favor was 
bestowed he was wont to receive it rather with apathy 
than any expression of gratitude, just as if he regarded 
it as partial compensation for continuous adversity. 
On the death of his wife, however, for it appears that 
" Jann the wiff of Joseph Armitage Dyed the 3 March, 
iGyG-iGyy" the asperity of his temper began somewhat 
to soften ; and on this occasion he seemed highly to 
appreciate the neighborly greetings of those about him, 
returning them with heartiness. The attentions of 
Captain Marshall, in particular, so overcame him that 
his red eyes grew redder and redder and more and more 
dewy. 

Next to Dr. Read, at the banquet table, sat an eccen- 
tric character of the name of Makepeace — John Make- 
peace. Dr. Reed and he had formed an acquaintance 
on the very day the former first entered the Anchor' 
and with a professional air deposited his saddle-bags on 
the bar-room settle. And their acquaintance received 
a relish from their frequent and warm disputations. 
His studies, as opportunity admitted, were directed to 
the discovery of means for the preservation of health 
and removal of disease by mechanical means rather 
than by medicine ; in other words, he strove to have 
the mechanic take the place of the doctor. This, of 
course, did not suit Dr. Read, and was the ground 
of many of their disputes — one sneering at the me- 
chanical contrivances, the other at the medicinal prepa- 
rations. 



474 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

Mr. Makepeace was a maltster, and well-esteemed for 
his dexterity and industry. He had a fair rudimental 
education, and spent much time in studying such books 
of a didactic and philosophical character as he could 
with his small means procure ; and with the exception, 
perhaps, of his occasional acrimonious defense of his 
favorite theories and inventions, would pass for rather 
a genial and companionable personage. 

He had not marched with the procession, but joined 
them as they filed into the hall of feasting. And it was 
on this propitious occasion that he appeared, for the 
first time, in his newly-invented sanitary harness. His 
appearance so alarmed some that they instinctively gave 
him a wide berth, while others were so amused at his 
comical appearance that they could not restrain the 
most uproarous laughter. 

Mr. Makepeace was afflicted with some sort of spinal 
disease — or at least he so fancied — and began to droop 
under his apprehensions. He had already begun to 
draw into a stooping attitude, so that he looked down 
rather than up in his daily walks. Many regrets did 
he entertain at the unfortunate declination from his 
former unfaulty presence, and wishes that the tree had 
not departed from the bent of the twig — especially as 
in pursuance of his daily avocation it was in his way to 
pass the neat cottage of a thrifty young widow. As he 
dwelt upon his apprehended deformity he naturally set 
about considering what was best to be done to avert 
the impending calamity, for he was one of those who 
refuse to yield even to nature herself without a hard 
struggle, if the good dame seems in any way inclined 
to thwart their aspirations. 

He sat in the Anchor bar-room one night, in an 
abstracted mood, though an animated discussion was 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 475 

going on, pondering gloomily upon his untoward pros- 
pects and mentally casting about for some remedy. All 
at once a very promising idea occurred, and so overcame 
him that he sprang up, and snapping his fingers, vocif- 
erated, " I 've got it ! " Of course the discussion ceased 
and the others stood staring at him as if wondering 
what sudden distraction had seized him. " Got what .-'" 
demanded Captain Marshall. But without making any 
reply he instantly shot from the door. 

He made his way directly to the shabby little black- 
smith shop that cowered in a bushy hollow half a mile 
down the lane. There he found the ingenious worker 
in iron battering away upon a glowing ploughshare, 
within a charmed circle of lively shooting stars. On 
announcing his presence the spiteful shower ceased and 
the sooty mouth opened wi'h a neighborly greeting. 
The two were presently seated on the edge of the water 
trough, the visitor drawing with the tongs, on the earth 
floor, a diagram of the invention which had so suddenly 
and so sharply pictured itself on his brain — an inven- 
tion which was to restore him to health and comely 
shape. 

The blacksmith was a little dull at first, but when the 
purpose of the engine, as he called it, was explained, he 
gave divers knowing nods, and that same hour began 
work upon it. And it was the product of the ideas and 
negotiations of that eventful night that made Mr. Make- 
peace so conspicuous at the public feast. 

The contrivance consisted of a metal band fitting 
around the forehead, with an iron arm projecting from 
the back of the head, some two feet, in the manner of 
a crane, to the extremity of which weights could be 
attached sufficient to force the head back and straighten 
up the spine, thus reducing the curvature. Odd as the 



476 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

"engine" was in appearance, it seems to have had a 
really beneficial effect. It was, to be sure, somewhat 
inconvenient in the way of wearing a hat ; but that 
was in a measure obviated by a cut into which the crane 
could be adjusted. 

The invention, too, was useful otherwise than for 
sanitary purposes. The projecting part formed a con- 
venient arm on which to hang light articles for transport- 
ation ; its many uses becoming from day to day more 
apparent. Sometimes his dinner basket would be seen 
swinging there ; and it is related that he was one day 
noticed emerging from the woods with a brace of quails 
and a dead rabbit, swinging gaily from side to side. 
This was considered by Mr. Makepeace one of the 
greatest of his achievements in support of his theory 
respecting the advantages of mechanical over medicinal 
appliances in the war against disease. But common 
sense teaches the advantage of either in a given case, 
without theoretical elaboration or exemplification. 

It is impossible now to discover precisely what effect 
his invention had on his growing infirmity ; though as 
before remarked it was beneficial ; and no doubt, had 
he lived long enough, he would have become as upright 
physically as morally he had ever been. 

Mr. Makepeace certainly contributed his share to the 
interest of the occasion, for some of the company seemed 
absolutely wonder-struck either at his unexampled inge- 
nuity or his folly. David Kunkshamooshaw, especially, 
evidently not exactly understanding the object intended, 
must needs take occasion to go round half a dozen times 
and closely examine, taking hold of the extremity and 
gently swaying it back and forth ; once testing its 
power by adding to the iron ball on the end a crook-neck 
squash which he took from a nail in one of the rafters. 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 477 

Finally, in a sort of grunting soliloquy, he muttered, 
" Me vum ; fishum-stick ; wehe pohquohwussinnean ; ki! 
dam ! " — no doubt taking it to be some sort of fishing 
apparatus. 

The invention, as well it might, became a pet with its 
inventor ; a very idol ; partly from its good effect on his 
health and partly as the offspring of his genius. But 
how often it is that our most cherished objects prove 
our destroyers. This idol was the death of its creator 
and worshipper ; though perhaps his valuable life had 
been prolonged by the very means that finally extin- 
guished it. He was rambling in the woods, one summer 
day, having a little blue-eyed maiden by the hand, when 
she suddenly sprang from his side to avoid an ugly 
snake, and he, hastily turning, caught the crane in the 
fork of a tree, giving his head such a wrench that his 
neck was instantly broken. 

Our aged and genial friend Obadiah Turner was 
there, but unable to take any active part in the doings 
though evidently enjoying them. He had risen from a 
sick bed at the entreaty of Mr. Laighton who had sent 
for him his great lumbering wood-wagon, drawn by an 
ox and two bulls. An easy chair and some Indian 
blankets were placed in the wagon, and the attentive 
David Kunkshamooshaw had furnished it with a great 
supply of herb-bundles and medicine-pots, besides pro- 
viding him with his own great talisman, wound about 
with strings of the richest wampum. This talisman, by 
the way, it is judged, was the tooth of an enormous beast, 
equal in size to the mastodon, a relic of which David 
could give no further account than that his grandfather 
said it belonged to a beast that he slew while standing 
with its fore feet on Nahant and its hind on Egg Rock. 



478 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

• 

This wonderful tooth is said to have been in existence 
as late as 1709, at which time a Jesuit priest spent a 
day or two here, and expressed a great desire to see 
it. It was looked up and shown to him, and on exam- 
ination he pronounced it to be the tooth of some antedi- 
luvian animal or of a unicorn or devil. He begged for 
it but it was refused him ; and it seems now to be for- 
ever lost ; though it may indeed be safely reposing in 
some Jesuit college collection. 

Much against the advice of Dr. Read Mr. Turner 
insisted upon travelling with the procession, saying 
that it was probably the last time he should ever be 
able so thorougly to traverse the settlement, and ob- 
serve the many changes since the Plantation began. 
He however rather followed the procession than moved 
along with it, for his team so lagged that the main body 
was often almost out of sight. Occasionally they would 
"halt for him and at other times the teamster would make 
short cuts across clearings. 

When Mr. Turner arrived at the Anchor at the hour 
of feasting his entrance was greeted with hearty ap- 
plause. And he was installed at table in the same easy 
chair in which he had performed his journey. The 
princely decoration of David's talisman was still conspic- 
uous upon him, and attracted much attention. He was 
a little more free than Mr. Whiting in the use of the 
good things and not so desirous of early retirement. 
But he had evidently over-estimated and over-taxed his 
powers. The consequence was that he finally fell for- 
ward in a sort of fainting-fit. Of course there was a 
rush towards him and an application of the best resto- 
ratives at hand. Dr. Reed was so blinded and suffering 
from his rough baptism in hot broth that he hardly knew 
what he was about. David rudely thrust him aside 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 479 

and proceeded to take the case into his own hands with 
all the airs of a regular doctor as he no doubt thought 
he was. From a pouch under his side feathers he drew 
forth a little leather bag and took from it a bit of 
eel-skin, in three or four thicknesses of which a thimble- 
ful of ointment was wrapped, with which he began to 
besmear the patient's face ; and instantly such an abom- 
inable smell arose that every one near gasped for breath. 
It seemed as if there had come a puff from the nethermost 
pit. There was no longer a crowd about the sick man 
and David looked around as if wondering why they had 
so suddenly dispersed. He gave a few vigorous rubs, 
and the good man had so far recovered as to beg for 
" air ; " and air there soon was in abundance, for the 
doors and windows flew open in a trice ; and the reno- 
vating odor of burning rags was added. 

At the end of the table where were seated the chief 
dignitaries of the settlement, was Thomas Newhall, a 
man of respectability, though perhaps remarkable only 
as being the first white person born on the soil of the 
Third Plantation, and as the owner of the mill which 
expressed the best cider in the whole region. He was 
the father of ten children, eight or nine of whom were 
living at the time of this celebration. They, in their 
turn, became fathers and mothers, the race increasing 
till, at the time of the celebration of the two hundred 
and fiftieth anniversary, it was almost beyond number- 
ing. Much deference was paid to him for the interest 
he took in all public affairs, and for his private virtues. 

He had brought as a present to Mr. Turner a can 
of his very best cider, and as the old gentleman was 
preparing to retire, stooped down to take it from the 
place of deposit, under the table, to make a formal pre- 



480 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

sentation, when, lo ! it was not there. Nothing could 
be found of it, and the aged diarist had to depart without 
the neighborly gift. Some one remembered that David, 
when superintending the remedial efforts at the time 
of the fainting-fit, took occasion to stoop down, several 
times, near where the can must have been, but thought 
nothing of it, not knowing of any thing being there ; 
and another observing individual remembered that when 
David went off the feathers about the upper part of his 
right arm seemed considerably pressed out, as if the limb 
had a mysterious something in charge. At all events, 
Mr. Turner lost his cider, and Mr. Newhall the pleasure 
of the presentation. 

Rollicking John Davis, too, was there, in high spirits, 
and sang one or two jolly songs and told a laughable 
story ; but it is to be hoped that he went home in good 
season and in good condition. It must be admitted 
that John would now and then deviate a little, and in 
consequence a slight domestic breeze would sometimes 
occur when he joined the family circle, inasmuch as 
Lady Davis was not famed for her gentle and forbear- 
ing disposition. On the contrary, she took a sort of 
masculine pride in always holding herself in readiness 
to repel aggression from any quarter. To use her own 
phrase, she would send back as hard pumpkins as were 
sent to Jier. This damaging entry has stood upon the 
colonial records ever since 1680: "We present the 
wife of John Davis of Lynn, for breaking her husband's 
head with a quart pot." What provocation John gave 
his lawful spouse, does not appear ; nor why she used 
that particular weapon, excepting that he might have 
stored "something" in it. But we are constrained to 
repeat that it is to be hoped he went home at the close 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 48 1 

of this joyful day in a condition that could not justify 
any quart-pot discipline, and correlatively that he there 
found things in such good order as to require no autho- 
ritative interference. 

But space will not admit of the individual introduction 
of many of the worthies present on that interesting 
occasion. The dignified and the merry-making, the 
quiet and the buoyant, the aged and the young, were 
there. And the whole proceedings, excepting perhaps 
the two or three contretemps alluded to, gave much 
satisfaction and furnished subjects for discussion in 
the Anchor bar-room and gossip in the meeting-house 
porch for many months. 

The young Indians, who had evidently done what 
they could to add to the enjoyments of the day, were, 
of course, not to be overlooked in the matter of feasting. 
Ample provision was made for them in the great barn 
of the Anchor, for David intimated that it would not do 
to have them in the house, as they would be likely to 
shy about over and under the table and perhaps amuse 
themselves by throwing the dishes around, or at the 
heads of the company. 

To the barn they were banished. Some boards had 
been horsed up, and such provisions as David thought 
most fitting to the youthful Indian stomach were placed 
upon them. The young savages rushed in with a whoop 
that made the old barn ring again, and after a few pre- 
liminaries, each one helped himself to what he most 
fancied, bear-steak answering as the chief staple ; and 
then, seated upon a horse trough or other stable fixture, 
or lounging on the hay-mow, partook of his chosen 
dainty. 

U 31 



482 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

When their appetites were satisfied, they commenced 
a most uproarous and indescribable round of sports, 
dancing and leaping about like unbroken colts, upsetting 
the provision boards, and making targets of the few 
dishes that had contained the meats, yelling and chant- 
ing their war and love ditties. The sedate cattle gazed 
on the rampant scene with a look of wonder, mingled, 
however, with thankfulness, for one of the first things 
the young rogues did on entering the barn was to 
supply each animal with an enormous heap of the best 
provender they could lay hands on — corn, pumpkins, 
barley oats, all forming component parts of each heap. 
The poor old rooster, too, who had moped about all day, 
was so revived and cheered by the animated scene that 
he could not avoid every now and then signifying his 
appreciation by a lusty crow. In one respect, too, the 
feasters in the barn were more favored than their co- 
celebrators in the house, and that was floral decorations. 
Some spendid collections . of forest flowers had been 
sent in by Indian women and maidens. When Mr. 
Laighton found it out, he declared that they were in- 
tended for the decoration of the grand table, and un- 
hesitatingly accused David of having connived at the 
diversion. But all -the reply he got was, "Me vum ! 
ugh ! dam ! ketassutamoonk ! pohquohwussinnean ! " 

The time, crowded as it was with hilarious enjoyment, 
passed rapidly on till the waning hours of afternoon, no 
one appearing to have observed a portentous cloud 
rising in the west, till it suddenly grew so dark that the 
features of the nearest neighbors were hardly distin- 
guishable. Then a vivid flash of lightning, instantly 
followed by a terrific peal brought every one who hap- 
pened to be seated, to his feet. The lightning had 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 483 

evidently struck near, for the electric shock was percep- 
tibly felt by several of the company. It was soon found 
that the sign-post had been struck, splintered and scar- 
ified in a most remarkable manner. At its foot, pros- 
trate and dead lay the poor old bear, no more to be the 
terror of village maiden, nor to pursue his round of 
tricks for the amusement of the traveller or gaping 
holiday crowd. 

For some minutes a tempest of unwonted fury, with 
rain and hail prevailed. The gusts were fearful, filling 
the air with branches wrenched from the trees, scatter- 
ing the Captain's pile of winter logs about the lot, and 
indeed making a general overturn and dispersion of all 
moveable things. A goat was taken up bodily and sent 
flying by the window and over the knoll towards the 
river, so rapidly as to be out of sight in a moment. 
And what is remarkable the animal was not seen again 
for a week, when he was found quietly browsing at Pines 
Point. It was generally supposed from this, that he 
was carried some two miles, flying through the air. 
The more rational conclusion, however, seems to be that 
he was forced into the river and swam across to the 
Point. In company with him was found an aged goose 
which the Captain and the cook had supposed to be 
of the number sacrificed for the feast. One or two 
Anchor windows were blown in, and Mr. Purchis had 
his right eye injured by a hail stone. The schoolmaster, 
too, who had recently come in from Connecticut, to 
" read, to wright & refmetic " the youth, as one of the 
negotiators expressed it in the correspondence, while 
lingering about the board with a still unsatisfied appe- 
tite, had one of his cheeks curiously inlaid with window 
glass. On the whole, however, the damage by this vio- 
lent elemental turmoil was not very great. 



484 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

The tornado, for such the tempest was evidently 
entitled to be called, did not long continue. The equa- 
torial torrents ceased, and a bright streak appeared in 
the west, which rapidly enlarged till the declining sun 
came out in his most glowing smiles to bid good-night to 
earth, rejoicing in her renovated vesture. And most 
of the company, even including Dr. Read with his 
bandaged head, sallied forth to a neighboring cliff, to 
contemplate the gorgeous rainbow spanning the dark 
cloud-curtain that hung in the east, and seeming like 
Nature's arch of triumph over elemental discord. 

Here we must bid a kind adieu to all those who 
assembled around the festive board on that memorable 
occasion — the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary 
of the ground-breaking of the sturdy old Third Planta- 
tion. We trust that all retired, cheered by the remin- 
iscences of the past and animated by the anticipations 
of the future. And we further trust that of the good 
things furnished from the Captain's bar no intemperate 
use was made. The worthy people of those days had not 
the blessings of tea and coffee, and hence required more 
heroism in withstanding temptation. Having been pre- 
sent at the celebration of the two hundred and fiftieth 
anniversary, in 1879, the writer is able exultingly to 
testify that no dereliction appeared there, in the matter 
of drink, for, wisely enough, tea and coflfee flowed in 
abundance, and no stimulants of higher proof were 
provided. And it is ardently recommended that our 
virtuous example be followed by all who in the future 
engage in celebrating Third Plantation anniversaries. 

The evening of this remarkable day was by the young 
people devoted to a frolicksorae gathering in the large 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 485 

upper room of the Anchor, which had been appropri- 
ately decorated for the occasion. No bunting with 
stars and stripes flaunted there, to be sure ; but there 
was among the " curiosities " an old battle-torn banner 
that Captain Marshall had managed to smuggle over, 
and which he claimed to have fought under while follow- 
ing the fortunes of Cromwell. 

As the evening waned, a merry dance took place ; and 
some of the elder people, who would not be thought 
to countenance such a vain and sinful exercise, but 
yet who could not forego the opportunity to witness 
that same vain and sinful exercise, sequestered them- 
selves in the dark cheese-room, where, through a lattice, 
they could hold the whole expanse of the creaking floor 
in survey. Though dancing in public houses was at 
that time prohibited by law, and though Captain Mar- 
shall was himself a magistrate sworn to enforce the 
laws, he does not seem to have been moved by these 
transactions under his own roof. Was he what they 
call a time server .-* But there are on all statute books 
enactments which it is not expected will be enforced 
excepting in extraordinary cases or under aggravating 
circumstances. At all events, in the instance now 
under notice, there seemed to be no disposition to in- 
terfere with the cheery proceedings. 

Some of the romping little Indian girls were invited 
to this evening entertainment, and came showily be- 
decked in their woodland finery, which in most instan- 
ces was really tasteful and becoming. Their glistening 
wampum belts, bright blanket-scarfs and brilliant feather 
head-dresses, together with their unconstrained but yet 
not immodest manners, made them quite attractive. 

The music was furnished by a young French scholar 
who was known by the single name of Conrad. He 



486 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

had mysteriously appeared in the settlement, no one 
having any knowledge of what brought him hither or 
why he remained. As is not uncommon in such cases 
of unknown personal history, a career of romance was 
awarded him ; and it was settled that though born in 
France he had been educated in Germany. It was 
apparent that he was quite out of his sphere at the Iron 
Works where he held a kind of clerkship. By his evi- 
dently superior education, his genteel bearing and deli- 
cacy of person, he was supposed to belong to some 
family above the common cast. And then his manners 
were of that earnest, sincere character that exercises a 
sort of fascination. But his musical skill was, perhaps, 
above all, most highly appreciated by his village friends ; 
and few gatherings of a social kind were thought com- 
plete unless he were present with his well-tuned Ger- 
man viol. Of course, on the occasion under notice, no 
one could supply his place. And the dulcet tones he 
drew forth from the chords, showed that he too could 
enter into the spirit of such jovial occasions. 

But Conrad was an enthusiast of the ultra German 
school, and had he lived in later days might have been 
taken for an infatuated devotee of some mysterious 
intellectual theory, or a spiritualist in the most extreme 
speculative sense. He often indulged in long, solitary 
rambles by the river side or in the woods, and on his 
return had strange stories to tell of what he had heard 
the whispering trees, the babbling brooks, or the moan- 
ing sea say concerning his di^ant friends ; or of their 
revelations concerning himself The very twinkling 
of the stars, during his nightly saunterings, were often 
to him a language telling of scenes traspiring beneath 
their gaze, in far-off lands. 

As the evening of the entertainment at the Anchor 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY, 48/ 

wore on, Conrad's spirits became gradually depressed 
to an unwonted degree ; and although he avoided any 
manifestation that might dampen the hilarity of the 
occasion, it became apparent to those who could best 
sympathise with such a nature, that from some cause 
he had become deeply affected. 

The hour for the dispersion of the merry assemblage 
arrived. A kind-hearted maiden who lived in the neigh- 
borhood of Conrad's lodging place, and with whom he 
had formed a pleasant acquaintance, observing his de- 
pressed state of mind, obligingly invited him to accom- 
pany herself and her affianced in their homeward walk. 
He gladly accepted the invitation, and the three departed 
upon the river road, now so delightful after the rough 
sweeping of the tempest. 

It was one of those lovely nights that in New Eng- 
land so often follow a tempestuous day ; serene and 
glowing ; so lovely that even the weary toiler will some- 
times eschew his very bed to stroll forth and enjoy ; 
enjoy, not in hilarious excitement but in chastened 
contemplation. During the walk along the river bank 
Conrad still remained in a dreamy, abstracted state, 
from which no efforts of his cheerful companions could 
arouse him. So on they walked, in the calm moonlight, 
and as they reached the foot-bridge that spanned a 
sparkling little tributary to the river, and paused to 
gaze upon the merry ripples, he suddenly ejaculated, in 
the most earnest tones : 

" Hark ! hark ! did you not hear my name whispered .-* 
• The young pine, yonder, is talking to the brook, and 
they are both speaking of me. For hours I have known 
that some sad message was on the wing, and would 
reach my ears before I slept. They are talking together, 
the brook and the pine ; and they are telling of a mes- 



488 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

sage brought by the bright star there in the east, a sad 
message for me ; every twinkle is full of sorrow and 
sympathy. Go on, go on and leave me here, for here 
I must receive my message." 

Hand in hand the fond companions strolled slowly 
along, not desiring to obtrude on his musing, nor to 
pass beyond call. When they had gained some distance 
on the other side of the stream, they sat down on a rock 
by the wayside, in anxious waiting. Finally Conrad 
came slowly along ; they arose, and together the three 
continued their walk. He related, with an air of in- 
creased sadness and in terms that showed his utmost 
assurance of its comprising a genuine revelation, the 
discourse between the star, the brook and the pine, to 
which he had listened ; a discourse which he doubted 
not was intended for his hearing. The star had told 
them it was even then looking down into the sick cham- 
ber of his beloved twin sister, in the far-off home of his 
childhood ; that a few days more and her spirit would 
take its flight from all earthly scenes ; that with un- 
speakable longing her tender heart was yearning to 
once more embrace her long absent brother ; and that 
she was just then, with the hoi}' father kneeling by her 
bedside, offering up a fervent prayer that they might 
ere long meet in that happy land where partings are 
not known. And then, he said, the young pine in an 
answering whisper added that it was revealed that he, 
Conrad himself, would, before another moon should fill 
her horn, lie down to rise no more ; that their long 
separation was soon, very soon to end. And he quietly 
added, that he now knew what uncompromising fate 
had decreed, and felt no desire to change his destiny, 
no desire that his own life should be prolonged after 
hers had closed. 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 489 

The seriousness and perfect assurance with which 
he received and announced these revelations deeply af- 
fected his young friends, insomuch that the remainder 
of the walk was pursued in almost utter silence. 

By one of those inexplicable coincidences that some- 
times occur, as the practical jogger-on of this semi-infidel 
age would say — this age which seems to be receding 
farther and farther from any desire to study into the 
workings of nature or of God's providence — Conrad 
was, within a few days, laid upon a bed of sickness, 
from which he never seemed to entertain any expecta- 
tion or desire to arise. ' His disease was of an acute 
nature and rapidly progressed towards its final conquest. 
But one short week, and the crisis was reached. 

It was midnight. There Conrad lay, with a gentle 
watcher by his bedside, and her companion gazing from 
the window — they, the two sympathising young friends 
with whose company he had been favored in the home- 
ward walk from the Anchor on the night of the enter- 
tainment, having volunteered to be his watchers. He 
lay softly breathing, for after an hour of feverish excite- 
ment he had merged into a quiet slumber. Suddenly 
his eyes opened, and grasping the hand that lay on his 
pillow, in a voice of almost preternatural sweetness, he 
whispered, "Hark! do you not hear those bells? O, 
they are the bells chiming in the church tower by our 
dear old home in Languedoc. They are tolling — toll- 
ing — tolling ; and I know well what they say. They 
say that her spirit is taking its flight. They tell me all 
the story of her love. And I hear the voices of the 
choir lads ; they are just beginning the solemn requiem 
chant — rest, rest, in peace. Yes, yes, I too am enter- 
ing that rest. I come, com-e co-m-e, c-o-m-e." His 
voice gradually died away and he slowly sank into a 
U* 



490 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

quiet sleep. But it was that sleep from which he was 
no more to awake. 

A day or two after, he was laid beneath the sod in 
the Old Burying Ground. Many villagers, especially 
the youthful, followed his remains, and a deep impres- 
sion was left on the more thoughtful minds. 

The multitude who never reflect upon the mystic 
ties by which nature, in all her departments, mental 
and physical, is linked together, and who fancy that 
any thing not attainable by their puny conceptions 
must be worthless speculation, may regard such pre- 
sentiments, convictions or impressions as those of our 
young enthusiast, mere baseless dreamings. But what 
are dreams and visions .-• And what is the value of 
affirmation or denial in things that are altogether beyond 
the reach of human powers .'' 

Long after the remains of Conrad had been commit- 
ted to their last resting place his name survived, and 
for many seasons there was a well-trodden footpath 
leading to his grave, which was centred in a group of 
sombre pines whose ceaseless whisperings had now no 
interpreter. His many kindnesses were unforgotten — 
his obliging attendance with his well-tuned viol at all 
social gatherings, however inconvenient to himself, and 
in utter refusal of all reward, being in an especial man- 
ner kept in remembrance. His affecting story was long 
rehearsed by young and old, doubtless with some roman- 
tic embellishments. 

But who, in truth, was Conrad — whence came he — 
and what brought him hither .-* Were questions like 
these ever satisfactorily answered ? Time, which finally 
resolves so many mysteries, gave some glimpses from 
which a fairly connected account was gathered, and a 
brief recapitulation will not be inappropriate here. 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 49 1 

In the early days of the Plantation, and soon after 
the doors of the Anchor were first opened by landlord 
Armitage, upon a crisp autumn evening, there appeared 
for entertainment, a military officer of fine presence, 
in undress uniform, accompanied by a lady, somewhat 
younger than himself, of more than common elegance 
of person and lady-like demeanor, and habited in a 
manner that indicated a position above the ordinary 
class of colonial society. They both seemed dejected 
though much endeared to each other, and manifested 
great disappointment when informed that no other guest 
had arrived that day. They had with them a little girl, 
apparently just verging on her teens — as bright, pretty 
and affectionate a maiden as ever justified parental pride. 
She addressed the lady as mother ; but nothing further 
appeared to indicate the precise relationship between the 
two elder ones. 

The next day there arrived from the eastward a stran- 
ger, portly in person, affable in manners, and evidently 
one of position. He seemed to have come on some 
business mission, but was shy and hesitating in making 
inquiries. A short time after this arrival the noon repast 
of the guests of the preceding evening was served, and 
the new-comer, on being informed of the fact, as he 
made inquiries regarding his own entertainment, with 
some eagerness asked if he could not be admitted to 
the table spread for them. His request was readily 
granted. And when he met the others at table, though 
there was some constraint and hesitancy at first, it 
appeared that all were parties to an expected meeting. 
And after the meal was ended a long conversation was 
held. Occasionally a sob was heard, and earnest but 
kind expostulation. The consultation continued for a 
couple of hours, and then the two gentlemen went out 



492 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

for a stroll, returning about the time for the evening 
meal, of which they all partook together. Then another 
conference was held, which continued till the hour of 
retirement. 

Immediately after breakfast, on the following morn- 
ing, a final meeting was held, and at its termination the 
portly gentleman came forth leading gently by the hand, 
the little maiden, who was sobbing as if her heart would 
break, followed by the mother, who in great agitation 
bestowed many parting kisses upon her darling. The 
officer gently took the almost fainting lady back to the 
parlor. And long before noon the weeping maiden, in 
the care of her conductor, who in the most gentle and 
compassionate tones endeavored to soothe her agitation, 
was far away on the eastern road. The other two re- 
mained at the Anchor till near nightfall and then set 
forth in the direction of Boston. 

Without pursuing this little history into minute detail, 
it will be sufficient to say that it turned out that the 
last comer was a Roman Catholic priest, and had, no 
doubt in pursuance of some previous arrangement, come 
hither to receive the maiden, whose name appears to 
have been Hortense, and convey her to Montreal, to be 
placed in a convent to receive the care and education 
which, especially in unsettled times, institutions of the 
kind are so well fitted to bestow. Whether she were 
a child of unsanctioned love, or born in wedlock does 
not appear ; but it is evident that means were not 
wanting to secure for her every thing necessary for 
generous living and for the development and cultivation 
of her florescent mind. 

Hortense was soon installed in her new home, gath- 
ering around a circle of genial friends, in whose society 
the pensive recollections of her early loss of a mother's 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 493 

loving care seemed gradually to fade away. Her pro- 
gress in study and various accomplishments, elicited 
the marked commendation of her guardians, and her 
amiable manners and ready wit qualified her to adorn 
any society. 

Pleasant months and even years glided by. Hortense 
still remained at the institution ; and it was fondly 
hoped by her spiritual guides that she would before 
long sever the few ties that still bound her to the outer 
world and become a recluse. Indeed she herself seems 
to have had many hard mental struggles touching what 
was pertinaciously urged upon her as her chief earthly 
duty. So things went on. 

Though the rules of the convent school admitted of 
no intimacy between the sexes, the restraints were not 
such as to preclude social intercourse to a very limited 
extent, and occasionally the young students who were 
receiving instruction in the neighboring college found 
means to enjoy a little chat with the pretty maidens. 

Among the college students was the son of a French 
gentleman, who had been sent hither that he might in 
so retired a spot, away from the temptations and evil 
attractions of his native land, pursue those studies and 
form those habits that would best fit him for the posi- 
tion it was designed he should some day occupy in the 
church. 

It was the fate — good or evil — of Hortense and 
Louis sometimes to meet ; and step by step an intimacy 
grew up ; that again, step by step led to a mutual 
attachment which in its turn increased in fervor till it 
reached the ultimatum of true love. But Louis was 
designed for the church, and the church did not admit 
of any matrimonial obligations in the priesthood. The 
two lovers, for such it appears we must now consider 



494 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

them, well knew that every obstacle would be interposed 
to defeat their aspirations ; that the church would never 
consent to release Louis from his vows or his obligations 
however his friends might feel as to his relinquishing 
his bright prospects of advancement to ecclesiastical 
dignity. A sort of sluggish opposition was for sometime 
encountered, and the course of true love here as in many 
similar cases ran far from smoothly. But finally the 
interference became more pronounced, and it was appa- 
rent to the devoted twain that success could only be 
secured by prompt and spirited action. Into details, 
however, it is not necessary here to enter, and it need 
only be added that — 

Louis and Hortense suddenly and mysteriously disap- 
peared from Montreal. Whither they had gone, or the 
particular circumstances attending their disappearance, 
whether they had left together, or even proceeded in the 
same direction, no one in the convent or the college 
knew ; or at least ever}/^ one pretended not to know. 

A couple of years after the flight, if such it must be 
called, of the two lovers, if such they are to be called — 
Louis and Hortense — from Montreal, they are found 
in the old province of Languedoc, in the north of France, 
in a cozy village home, surrounded by cultivated society 
and enjoying the esteem of all around. It can readily 
be understood why they took up their abode in France, 
for it was the native land of Louis ; and the Edict of 
Nantes being yet in full force, he would fear no ecclesi- 
astical molestation. There, in dreamy old Languedoc, 
in a charming cottage home, within the summer evening 
shadow of the ancient church tower, were Conrad and 
his twin sister born, a merry chime of the musical bells 
announcing the happy event to the expectant villagers. 
Not many days after, however, those same bells, in 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY, 495 

mournful tones announced the decease of Louis. Hor- 
tense was a widow and her babes were fatherless. 

The little family seem to have been supplied with 
means sufficient for every comfort if not for living in 
luxury. It was a home of contentment, serenity and 
endearment. But changes must come, and every house- 
hold must have its painful separations. 

At an early age Conrad was sent over for education 
in a German university. And it was probably there that 
he imbibed those mystic sentiments, which, combining 
with his naturally poetical, romantic and dreamy nature, 
produced a devout enthusiast. He and his sister must 
have had an intense affection for each other. Whether 
he completed his education before leaving Germany, or 
came here, intending to return and resume his studies, 
it would be fruitless to inquire. But what could have 
been his purpose in visiting this secluded nook, at all .-' 
It will readily be conjectured that he may have been 
allured by a strong desire to inform himself on certain 
interesting points of family history, of which, most 
likely, he had received inklings at the fireside in Lan- 
guedoc. But the touching story of his death has been 
told. And in his brief history may be learned the story 
of an Enthusiast of the true German type. 

As a fit closing to the present volume, the following 
passages are introduced from the remarks of a speaker 
at the banquet held on the occasion of the celebration 
of the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the com- 
mencement of the Third Plantation, to wit, on the 17th 
of June, 1879. Embodying, as they do, a running sketch 
of the life of Rev. Mr. Whiting, to whom the Planta- 
tion was so much indebted, and in compliment to whom 
the subsequent name of the territory itself was bestowed, 



496 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

they cannot be deemed inappropriate. The regular toast 
to which the remarks were in response, was in these 
words : 

The Third Plantation: — Foundf>d by an earnest, intelligent, devout 
people, who sought in the new world independence. In spite of rough 
surroundings the early settlers led happy, wise, affluent lives, and, dying, 
left behind fragrant memories, which have incited their successors to 
worthy deeds. 

The speaker then proceeded to say : 

When it was intimated to me, Mr. Mayor, that I might be called on 
to make a few remarks on this interesting occasion, I felt that if I were, 
it would be hardly courteous to remain entirely silent, and endeavored to 
fix upon some circumstance in our perhaps not particularly eventful 
history, that might indicate to whom and to what we are justified in 
looking, in an especial manner, for the attainment of the satisfactory 
position, which, after two hundred and fifty years, we find ourselves 
occupying. And the result will appear in what I now proceed briefly 
to offer. 

June, the loveliest month of the New England year, is marked as that 
in which the settlement began. How different from the, surly December 
that howled over the sea-worn pilgrims who first landed on the Plymouth 
shore. Here, the face of nature was beautiful in its very wildness, and 
the balmy air lent elasticity to the spirits of the settlers, and energy to 
their strong arms. 

Three years after the first tents were pitched, that is, in June, 1632, the 
little church was formed, an event in those days of the first importance. 
And in the very brief time it would be proper for me to occupy, I propose 
to speak chiefly of the reverend New England father, who was the second 
minister, and he through whom the Plantation received its present name. 
I shall at once be understood as alluding to the Rev. Samuel Whiting, 
who for more than forty years was identified with the best interests of the 
settlement. May we not, then, call him the Father of Lynn, as Mather, 
in view of his exalted piety, was wont to call him the Angel of Lynn ? It 
was just two hundred years ago, that is, in 1679, that the remains of that 
good old man were laid away to everlasting repose in the then quiet 
village burial place, overshadowed by ancient forest trees, but now looked 
down upon by stately edifices, and surrounded by a busy multitude. The 
spot where he rests is marked by a simple granite shaft, reared a few 
years since by the Hon. William Whiting, of Boston, a direct descendant, 
who himself rendered such eminent service to our government during the 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 49/ 

most perilous period of tlie late war of the Rebellion, and who has him- 
self been since called to join his honored ancestor in the land whence 
there is no return. 

Who can be deemed more worthy of remembrance on an occasion like 
this.-" — not only because of his profound learning, serene temper, and 
well rounded christian character, but likewise for his liberal principles, 
political sagacity, and untiring efforts to advance the public prosperity 
and elevate the public name ; characteristics which gave him prominence 
among the leading public men, and large influence in the colonial councils. 
Who can estimate the result of his well-directed efforts for that long series 
of years, in shaping public polity and private enterprise .'' Or who indeed 
can estimate the effect of his labors even on the institutions of our own 
day.'' 

It is not to be forgotten that many of the clergy of that day had very 
great influence in the direction of public affairs. Indeed it was common 
for the executive, legislative and even the judicial authorities to apply to 
them for the solution of intricate questions and the determining of prin- 
ciples. Many, if not most of them, had been ministers in the Church 
of England, and were men of learning and deep thought. The very 
experiences that induced their emigration, arose generally from their 
advanced views of human rights and political liberty. It is to be remem- 
bered, too, that at that period the settlement of a minister was, under 
ordinary circumstances, expected to be for life ; not a mere temporary 
sojourn as is so frequently the case in our day. And it will readily be 
perceived how much greater the opportunity of the faitliful pastor then 
was to inaugurate and sustain pursuits calculated to be permanently bene- 
ficial. Then, the clergyman had the same inducement to be diligent and 
trusting that the husbandman has in his vocation — delight in watching 
the upspringing from the good seeds he scatters and repose in the well- 
founded expectation of receiving in harvest time the reward for his toil 
and faith. 

No sooner had Mr. Whiting commenced his ministrations to the 
church here, than the discordant elements which had disturbed it, and 
the whole little community as well, were harmonized, and old and young 
gathered around him in delightful sympathy and trust — e-xemplifying 
the truth that mental strength coupled with genial manners, is potent to 
secure confidence and love. 

A few words on the personal history of Mr. Whiting: He descended 
from a long line of honorable ancestors, and was a son of Sir John 
Whiting, Mayor of old Boston in 1600 and 1608. His brother John was 
also Mayor of Boston in 1626, 1633, 1644 and 1645, ''■^'^^ ^^^ brother 
James was Mayor in 1640. 

The subject of these remarks was born in 1597, and at the age of six- 
teen was entered at Emanuel College. He was an apt scholar ; received 

32 



498 THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 

the degree of A. B. in 1616, and that of A. M. in 1620. Afterwards he 
received the degree of D. D. His father died while he was in college, 
leaving a very considerable estate. Emanuel College, as is well known 
to readers of Puritan history, was called " the hot-bed of Puritanism," 
and it was while there, no doubt, that he imbibed those principles which 
grew with his growth and strengthened with his strength — those prin- 
ciples which so strongly marked his whole after life. It is well to observe 
that what were known as the Puritan principles of that day, had reference 
not only to church but also to state. It was not only the purpose to 
purify the church of obnoxious rites and ceremonies, but also to free the 
people from governmental oppression and wrong — to circumscribe the 
royal prerogatives, defend against the encroachments and reduce the 
privileges of the aristocracy ; in short, to break down every barrier to 
the reasonable exercise of individual right, freedom and responsibility. 

Mr. Whiting took orders in the Church of England soon after gradu- 
ating, and became chaplain in a refined and wealthy family in Norfolk. 
After remaining there about three years, apparently in great prosperity 
and happiness, he accepted a rectorship in Lynn Regis, as colleague 
of Rev. Dr. Price. In that situation he remained three years, adminis- 
tering his office acceptably, excepting his refusal to conform to certain 
required usages in the established church service ; in brief, he was a 
Nonconformist, subjected himself to the censure of the Bishop of Nor- 
wich, and was induced to resign and remove to the parish of Shirbcc, 
near Boston, where he again filled the office of rector, and again came 
under censure for nonconforming practices. 

In 1636 his situation became so uncomfortable that he resigned and 
prepared to emigrate to America. The parish church in which he 
officiated, at Shirbec, is still standing, surrounded by the graves of those 
to whom he so many years ago ministered. It is described as " a simple 
and unpretending s.tructure, planted on the left bank of the river Witham, 
whose sluggish waters have sadly endangered its foundations." 

The same year, 1636, in which he resigned his charge at Shirbec, he 
emigrated to America, arriving in May. He does not appear to have 
greatly enjoyed the voyage hither, as he remarks that he would " much 
rather have undergone six weeks' imprisonment, for a good cause, than 
six weeks of such terrible seasickness." A few months after his arrival, 
November 8, 1636, at the age of thirty-nine, he was installed minister 
of the little church gathered here. 

Mr. Whiting was twice married. His second partner, she who accom- 
panied him hither, could claim a family descent more illustrious than his, 
for she could trace her lineage, without a break, to William the Con- 
queror. She was a sister of Oliver St. John, the Chief Justice of England 
during the Commonwealth, and own cousin to Oliver Cromwell. But all 
the incidents of birth and family on his and her part, incidents which to 



FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 499 

so many, even here and among us, possess a peculiar charm, seem to 
have weighed nothing in competition with their strong sense of duty. 

Tlie young couple, as they then were, apparently without one longing 
look behind, left the bright scenes, the comforts and luxuries of their early 
homes, crossed the stormy ocean, and bravely entered this western wilder- 
ness, with stout hearts and strong arms, to fight the battle of civilization 
against a savage dispensation — to subdue a wild and ungracious soil, to 
establish the arts of civilized life where only the rudest devices to supply 
the most common wants of man had been known. Nobly did they 
address themselves to their chosen work, and great was their success. 
The beneficial results of their settling here did not by any means end 
with their lives. Children were born to them, and children's children 
have appeared in almost every path of usefulness, and adorned our whole 
history. The entire nation has received benefits hardly capable of being 
over-estimated. Some of their descendants have been conspicuous in 
theological, scientific and literary callings ; cihers have filled useful and 
honorable positions in the national civil service ; others again have risen 
to eminence in the military profession. One needs only to glance over a 
dictionary of American biography to learn how meritorious the family 
has proved. 

How few of us realize what lasting, what cumulative blessings may 
spring from such parentage ? And the remembrance of such benefactions 
is useful as an incentive to like good works in others, as well as a tribute 
of gratitude, which, though it cannot affect one whose earthly labors have 
closed, must yet have a favorable influence on the living. And what 
topic can be more proper for a day like this, than that which illustrates 
the lives of such benefactors ? Who among us of this generation, will 
prove as worthy of remembrance, when another couple of centuries have 
rolled away ? It is said that he who has no respect for the memory of his 
ancestors, deserves not the respect of posterity. And most assuredly, a 
community that has no grateful remembrance of its benefactors is unde- 
serving of continued prosperity. 

Mr. Whiting, as might readily be supposed, took great interest in the 
education of the youth of the town, and, together with his accomplished 
wife, did every thing possible to refine the manners and elevate the 
condition of every class. He took unwearied pains to advance every 
material interest — to improve the husbandry, the fisheries, the mechanic 
arts — indeed all branches required for the supply of current and pros- 
pective wants. And all the time he never lost sight of opportunities to 
promote the broader interests of the little community, vigilantly guarding 
against the imposition of wrongful burdens by the General Court, through 
misinformation or selfish appliances, and laboring in every honest way to 
elevate and dignify her name. The town grew rapidly during the forty 
years he so devoted to her concerns. And it was a healthy growth. 



sop 



THE ANCHOR TAVERN. 



I have selected Mr. Whiting from among the other meritorious indi- 
viduals who labored so zealously and so well in laying the foundations 
of our social fabric, for the reasons already indicated. But I would not 
detract from the praise due those other pioneers who made so many 
sacrifices and achieved such enduring conquests. Many were worthy 
of the highest commendation ; but time will not allow of a step beyond 
the proposed limit ; no, not even to pay a passing tribute to my own 
ancestors, who were among the earliest here — for I have the proud 
claim of direct descent from the first white child born within the territory 
of the famous old Third Plantation. Most certainly merited praise 
bestowed on one individual, cannot, excepting possibly in a mean and 
jealous mind, be viewed as silent censure on another but unnamed 
worthy. 

And now, in closing, allow me to repeat that it was in 1679, two centu- 
ries ago, the present year, that that venerable New England father who 
indeed may, v/ith unquestionable propriety, be reckoned among the 
foremost of the early benefactors and true citizens of our beloved home, 
was called away from his earthly labors. And I again ask, is it not highly 
becoming that he should be gratefully remembered on this special occa- 
sion.' And is not this a fitting sentiment to be expressed as such 
memories are summoned up ? 

The Rrd. Samuel Whiting: May the memory of his virtues and his 
labors for the good of our beloved home, in her infarl days, never cease 
to inspire every son and daughter to do their utmost for the continuance 
of her prosperity and good name. 




Witt's Rock. Now called Lover's Leap. 



I'' . 



^7 7 



(D 



